


Fly me to the moon; fill my heart with Song

by fultimeinternet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, F/F, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fultimeinternet/pseuds/fultimeinternet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela is to stay four weeks in Busan, South Korea. At the MEKA headquarters. Given the circumstances, naturally, she ends up crossing paths and spending time with one famous Hana Song a.k.a. D.Va – little did they know, though, at the beginning of it all, that four weeks will be long enough to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Unseen Horizon

Angela remembers the day her parents died as clear as the blue of a cloudless morning sky.

The sickening smell of gunpowder and smoke, the resonating sounds of firing and her father shouting her name – the guilt in his eyes right before he hits the ground, lifeless in a pool of blood; next to her mother.

The scene flashes through her mind, as it often does, like a series of quick snapshots of which nothing remains but the momentary bitter taste of regret and a fleeting longing for the halcyon days gone by.

They say time heals all wounds. _Well, that is debatable_ , Angela thinks. The unquestionable truth is that no matter how much time passes, there are certain things you can never rub away or assign to oblivion. Some things get forever and irremediably etched into your memory; into the core of your very own being. They turn into scars, and they stay with you. But scars are meant to be embraced. Make them your own, wear them like armor, and they ought to help shape you into the person you are meant to become. For better or for worse.

“We are almost there.” She hears the quiet woman next to her speak up for the first time since they got into the glass-elevator and it successfully jolts Angela’s attention back to the present. “I apologize if I have startled you, Doctor Ziegler,” the woman adds. “It was not my intention _._ ” Her tone calm and respectful, all while maintaining a strict, no-nonsense demeanor and a stern facial expression.

“That’s alright,” Angela tells her, with no malice in her voice. There’s no denying that she _has_ been rather distracted and it must have shown. And the woman – an assistant – is merely doing her job, after all. Simply doing what she’s been instructed to do: accompany Angela from the main entrance and all the way up to the tenth floor of the skyscraper which currently served as the MEKA headquarters.

It has been approximately one hour since her arrival in Busan and Angela realizes that she has, in fact, been so caught up in revisiting old memories that she paid little to no mind to her surroundings. Well, she figures the opportunity to explore the building and the city would eventually present itself, anyhow, in the span of the four weeks she’ll be spending here.

She takes a quick glance at the small digital clock above them – _6:00 pm_ – when, right on cue, the elevator doors open, revealing a handsome man in a dark navy-blue suit and a few others dressed up accordingly, walking a few steps behind him as they approach the two women with steady movements.

The man in the front takes the initiative in greeting her first. “Doctor Ziegler, first and foremost, welcome to South Korea!” They all bow in unison and Angela feels compelled to return the gesture, so she does. “Choi Jin-Hyuk, CEO,” he introduces himself, reaching for a handshake – a short, firm grasp – and Angela’s nostrils pick up on a faint scent of cigars. “It is an honor to have you here and a pleasure to finally be able to make your acquaintance. _”_

Angela simply nods in agreement and reciprocates with a polite smile, “Likewise.”

“We have heard only great things about you and your work,” he tells her. “I wanted to personally thank you once more for your willingness to cooperate and offer us your assistance in the devolpement of this project.”

Angela can't help but notice how his blindingly white smile doesn't seem to reach his sharp, black eyes – and there is _something_ about it that feels deeply unsettling. But before she could allow her mind to dwell on that particular aspect any further, the sound of rushed footsteps echoing throughout the large hall – someone cheerfully calling out to her from behind – makaes Angela want to turn her head around.

“Doctor Ziegler!”

She hears it again and, somehow, she knows exactly who to expect. Angela has to admit, she had rarely felt as relieved to see a familiar face as she does at the sight of the girl in a blue, form-fitting plugsuit striding towards them with resolute steps and a beaming smile on her face.

“Ah, perfect timing,” the man remarks. “Doctor, I believe you are already acquainted with our own national pride and beloved hero: Song-Hana.”

Angela feels a smile of her own tugging at the edge of her mouth. “Yes, of course.” She knows the basics; she’s done her research. Hana Song, a.k.a. D.Va. Former professional gamer. Elite MEKA pilot. National hero. Global icon. Young, talented, fierce and – Angela almost chuckles a little at her own choice of words – a _merciless_ competitor. “We have met on several occasions before,” she says. “Although, all of our previous encounters were rather brief and formal.”

“There will be plenty of time to get properly acquainted, I am sure. Song-Hana here will show you around. _”_ He looks at the girl as if adding a silent ‘ _if you please_ ’ to which the girl nods enthusiastically. “Excellent! _”_ He claps his hands together, visibly pleased with the outcome, then shifts his attention back to Angela. “Now, I’m afraid I must excuse myself for I have several urgent matters to attend to. I shall see you tomorrow, in the conference room on the seventh floor, for the morning meeting. Rest well, Doctor Ziegler.”

And with that, he bows once more out of courtesy and bids them good evening.

* * *

 

Apart from the constant clack of Angela’s heels across the polished concrete floor – and a few muffled voices, heard in passing, coming from behind the closed doors of a conference room – not much else is intruding upon the silence that settled in the air between them.

Outside, the sun is already setting, engulfing the city in a pleasant late evening atmosphere and Angela can make out the shape of their reflection in the glass of the outer walls as they walk through a long and spacious office corridor on their way to the laboratory. Koreans seem rather fond of mirrors and transparency, from what Angela’s gathered thus far – among other things – during the rather brief and basic tour of several other floors. Much like the rest of the building, everything around them has a certain elegant and modern simplicity about it, which leads Angela to believe that they may have a certain affinity for minimalistic interior design.

“So, how are things going for Overwatch these days?” She hears the younger girl ask, in an attempt to resume their prior moments of chatter.

“Well…” Angela pauses and lets her words trail off, unsure of how best to describe it. The harsh but undeniable reality of things is that ever since Winston initiated the Recall, they’ve had their fair share of struggles. They no longer have any sponsors, they are running low on funds and then there was, of course, the Petras Act; which is essentially deeming their activities as being illegal, thus forcing them to keep all their work under wraps. Without a doubt, there is plenty of room for improvement but even so, all things considered, Angela chooses to believe that they _can_ and they **_will_** eventually succeed in bringing Overwatch back to its former glory.

“I suppose you could say that our current situation is… relatively stable,” Angela concludes, at last, with a soft chuckle. At the end of the day, it's solely a matter of time and perseverance.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” the younger girl chuckles too. “By the way, did Kang So-ra give you the MEKA holo-watch?”

Angela blinks. _Who and what now—_ “You’ve met her, right? The lady assistant?” D.Va clarifies, with a hint of amusement coloring her words, as if guessing the confusion in Angela’s thoughts.

“Ah, yes,” Angela replies, in a sheepish tone, realization immediately dawning upon her _,_ “Yes. I did.”

Feeling a lingering sense of embarrassment at her own slip up, Angela digs into the right pocket of her coat, puling out a white bracelet-like gadget to which D.Va nods in confirmation, “Yup, that’s the one.”

Angela slips the device onto her left wrist and fiddles with it until she activates a small holographic user interface prompting her to confirm her identity. “It works with voice commands too,” D.Va adds. “You’ve basically got everything you need in there.” She points to her own left wrist to indicate that she’s still talking about the so called holo-watch. “Log-in passwords, access code to your lab, identification key to your room, back-up data, so on and so forth. You can even import data from your personal computer. Or any other device, really.” The girl informs her, as seriously as if she is reading it all from a manual. “Not as impressive as an A.I. like Athena, I’m guessing, but still pretty cool, right?”

She sounds so proud and accomplished that it makes Angela smile. She finds it all too endearing, really.

“I’m sure Winston would love it, _”_ Angela tells her. "As for me, it’s more than enough. Thank you, D.Va.”

“You can call me Hana.” And the moment she flashes a grin, Angela can’t help but feel a sudden and inexplicable surge of fondness for the girl.

“Thank you, Hana,” Angela repeats, averting her eyes. Somehow, this girl is making her feel completely at ease and oddly self-conscious – all at the same time. _How strange_ …

Angela brushes that thought aside, refusing to entertain it any longer. She places the holo-watch near the digital screen display for the security identification procedure and the door slides open as soon as they are granted authorized access to the facility.

“She has an incurable case of the resting-bitch-face syndrome, that Kang So-ra  _unnie_ ,” Hana says, glancing over her shoulder as she casually wanders in first. “She’s super nice, actually. She’s one of the nicest people around here. If you need anything, you can just ring her up. It’s like room-service.”

Angela follows, two steps behind, hiding a chuckle behind her hand, “Is that part of her job description?”

“Nah,” Hana sniggers. “But she’ll do it anyway. That’s what makes her so nice.”

The lights turn on automatically as soon as they step inside, revealing a spotlessly clean and well-equipped hi-tech research laboratory and Angela finds herself glancing around, already inspecting the quality of the equipment. She’ll be spending a considerable amount of time in here, she figures she might as well try to start making herself at home. “Hm… I wouldn’t want to take advantage of her kindness,” she says, belated, preoccupied with taking a quick, preliminary look through a file cabinet.

“Yikes, well now you just made me feel like a bad person in comparison.” Hana sounds genuinely wounded and Angela’s immediate reaction is to straighten up and swiftly turn around with an apologetic look on her face, “Oh, I didn’t mean—“

“Kidding,” Hana smirks; teasing Angela with a wink. She seems so pleased with herself, and Angela’s lips quirk up the tiniest amount in a smile. _This girl, honestly..._ Angela opens her mouth to reply but Hana’s focus is all of a sudden snatched by something else and Angela finds herself — almost instinctively — following the line of Hana's curious gaze to where a large, in-wall aquarium tank is located. It stands out so much that, frankly, it's a wonder they didn’t notice it sooner.

“Oh, wow! It’s been a while since I’ve seen something like this! The local aquarium’s been closed down for years.” Hana moves closer to watch the pink and yellow jellyfish through the glass. “So pretty,” she murmurs, thoroughly captivated; her eyes following their perpetual drift as they float by, trailing their long tentacles behind them. “How about you, doc? You like it?"

“I do,” Angela says; her gaze, too, lingering curiously on the pastel-colored jellyfish inside. “Aquariums are known to have a beneficial effect on a person’s health.”

Hana quirks an inquisitive brow as if asking ‘ _how so_ ’.

“They reduce stress levels, help you relax, sleep better at night,” Angela explains. “They also have this substance inside of them, so potent that a single sting can kill a human in minutes. But it can do wonders when turned into medicine.” _Truly remarkable creatures._

“Wait, you’re not gonna, like—” Hana’s eyes widen with feigned shock. “ _Dissect_ them or anything, are you?”

“Well…” _Two can play the teasing game_ , Angela thinks. And with a sly look on her face — which makes Hana visibly tense for a second or two — she puts a finger to her lips and drops her voice to a confidential whisper, like she’s about to disclose a top secret, “They _are_ here for a reason, aren’t they?”

Hana’s eyes immediately widen in genuine disbelief and Angela waits a long, very calculated beat before she allows herself the satisfaction of adding, “Kidding.” She chuckles and Hana heaves a sigh of relief at once then smirks in return, looking somewhat impressed. She mutters a ‘ _good one, doc’_ under her breath before returning her attention back to the aquarium tank, and Angela thinks that she could get used to this. It's almost fascinating, peculiar even, how easily they can fall into this type of dynamic and how comfortably it fits.

For a moment, Angela debates on whether or not she should let Hana know that some jellyfish are, in fact, immortal. And even if she were to cut one in two, they could regenerate their lost pieces, being able to go as far as cloning themselves _._ Ultimately _,_ she decides against it because, well, truthfully, she doesn’t want to give off the impression of a boastful know-it-all. The two of them have already passed the point of making _the_ first impression, and yet, for some reason, Angela can’t quite shake off the persistent urge of wanting to make a lasting good impression on this girl, nonetheless.

“Say, doctor…” Hana begins, a little absent-mindedly, while lightly tapping the glass a few times as though she is trying to see if she could incite a livelier reaction from the jellyfish. “Aren’t they supposed to light up at night? Glow in the dark or something?”

“Some species do,” Angela tells her. “Many jellyfish have bioluminescent organs which emit light.”

Hana mouths an ‘ _I see’_   while staying focused on the sea creatures in question.

“Altough,” Angela pauses, leaning in, trying to get a closer look — squinting her eyes a little, as if trying to decipher a rune. “I have to admit, I’m not quite sure whether these species fall under that particular category or not,” she concludes with a dissatisfied sigh and she hopes Hana isn't too disappointed with her answer, but instead, she catches the younger girl looking at her with a devious twinkle in her eyes.

Hana quirks a playful eyebrow. “Only one way to find out,” she quips, and with that, in one swift movement, without warning or breaking eye contact, she steps directly into Angela’s personal space — dangerously close. They are barely inches apart and Angela can feel the quickening pace of her pulse as Hana reaches for her left wrist and brings it close to her mouth. The slightest suggestion of a smirk playing at the corners of her lips, Hana looks like she knows exactly what she is doing as she presses a small side button on Angela's holo-watch and half-whispers the voice-command into it: “Turn off the lights.”

Her breath hot on Angela’s wrist and Angela's heart skips a beat. One split second of brief anticipation and the room goes pitch dark. It all happens so suddenly that Angela barely has any time to react. She feels the warmth of a blush crawling up her neck. _Is she imagining things or did Hana's thumb just brush over the back of her hand?_ She must have imagined it. She must have definitely imagined it.

As their eyes start to gradually adapt to darkness, the space around them is slowly coming back alive with the neon glow of the jellyfish...

"Whoa…" Hana murmurs, marveling at the sight, with child-like wonder eclipsed in her eyes. "It's like the Northern Lights…"

But Angela has a hard time focusing on anything other than the girl next to her; she can feel her behind her eyes. And she can't quite tell how long it lasts, really, but embarrassingly enough, when Hana lets go of her wrist and steps back, Angela finds she already misses the proximity. There is just something about this girl… Angela feels truly drawn to her side.

 

“People have grown so terrified of the sea nowadays...” Hana says, quietly, and more to herself than anything; the soft-spoken words effectively jarring Angela out of her daze. “Well, it’s practically one giant graveyard if you think about it. Completely desolated, monotone and reeking of bad memories.” Angela knows about it; about what happened twenty years ago in South Korea. She’s read official reports about the colossal Omnic monstrosity that rose from the depths of the East China Sea and caused catastrophic damage to coastal cities before it was driven back beneath the waves. Entire cities crushed and dragged out to sea — into nothingness. And worst of all… it was only the beginning.

The silence continues to remain undisturbed, and Hana carries on, "I've heard stories though, of the days before I was born, when people would hold festivals and go watch the fireworks from the shore. I never got to experience any of that and, I guess, it makes me feel a little jealous..." The wistfulness in her voice as she utters those words makes Angela's heart ache for her. Hana looks so delicate with her fingertips gently pressed against the watery blue tank; a little pale in the dim light and yet still, so very pretty, with her doleful eyes aglow with the playful colors. It happens to remind Angela of the flickering lights of fireflies across a nightfield.

“Not many dare to go near the shore anymore. It’s not even officially off-limits or anything, it’s more like an unspoken consensus of sorts. Like stepping too close to the shore is supposed to be a bad omen or something. These people look at the sea and all they can picture is a countdown to the next disaster. It makes them feel uneasy, uncertain… afraid.” Hana sighs and eventually adds, “If I’m being honest, I get it. I mean, sometimes it gets kinda hard to believe that things can be good again, you know, but even so…”

The moment her gaze returns to Angela, the girl's eyes shimmer with unwavering determination. “I would like to change that,” Hana states resolutely. “I want them to feel the way I feel in this moment: safe and happy. Isn’t that what being a hero is all about? Wanting to make a difference, a change for the better? That’s what I want to do for these people.”

The fierceness of her conviction leaves Angela no doubt that she could do it; that this girl could do anything she sets her mind to.

Another beat of silence goes by until Hana lets out a dry laugh. “ _Aish,_ sorry, doctor, I just randomly sprang all this on you. Am I freaking you out?”

But Angela's features only soften into a warm smile in return, as she gently rests a hand on Hana's shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. Angela knows that feeling. She knows it all too well… how difficult it can be at times, to seek hope amid the sorrow. Every hero does.

“Here’s what I like to tell myself,” Angela finally speaks up, after a moment’s hesitation. "We, as heroes, have to always look beyond. Towards the unseen horizon _._ In the face of disaster lies opportunity for renewal. And amidst uncertainty and misery lie possibilities that can become reality."

Angela suddenly recalls the words Winston had always been so particularly fond of and Angela realizes that she's already smiling. Of course, she's heard those words on numerous occasions; enough times to know them by heart. "Always remember,” she says, letting her hand slide gently on the small of Hana’s back. “Never accept the world as it appears to be, dare to see it for what it could be."

Hana's eyes bore into Angela's, firmly holding her gaze as she utters, "When you say it like that, I think I could believe anything."

And there is something in the way Hana is looking at her now, with such pure and genuine admiration, that makes Angela's chest go warm and tight. She suddenly feels the strange need to look away. "Well," she clears her throat, awkwardly, as she brings her focus back to the lit-up aquarium in front of them. "Believing in the possibility of good things happening is a form of bravery in itself, wouldn't you say?"

Hana lets out a soft and vibrant giggle. “Then you are by far the bravest person I know, doctor,” she declares, in a most earnest way, and Angela can’t help but think that in the simple certainty of that one moment, with the two of them there, side by side, mending into each other’s presence…

Well, believing in good things happening seems only natural.

 

* * *

 

By the time they've leisurely made their way, two floors below, to where Angela's temporary accommodation is, the sun had already set.

"This will be your room," Hana tells her, then she points out to the second to last door across the hall. "And that one's mine."

“You live here?” Angela asks.

“Um, yes and no.” Hana says it like that answer alone should suffice. “I mean, most of the time, I do. It’s best to stick close to the base as much as possible so I can answer emergency calls faster,” she clarifies, shrugging nonchalantly. “I also help with the testing of new prototypes every now and then… you know, all that junk.”

“I see. What about the other pilots? Do they all live in this building?”

Hana's eyes grow distant. "Uh, yeah... something like that," she says, quietly, almost as though they may be approaching a topic she didn't quite want to discuss, not yet at the very least, so Angela simply hums in understanding, having decided not to push the matter any further.

“Alright then! I’ll let you unpack and get some rest.” Hana bids her good night then halfway through the hallway she twirls around with a beaming smile. “See you around, doc.”


	2. </digital frontier>

Real life is not a video game. Hana knows that much.

Out there… she doesn’t have lives to spare. Each second, each minute, each day… could easily be her last. Which is why, she stays confident in her abilities but realistic about the odds, and aware of consequences.

Still, in many ways, life _is_ a game in itself. And video games, too, are in many ways a mirror to reality – emulations of various aspects of it. Now others may or may not argue about that but, the way Hana sees it, real life and video games… they are like two sides of the same coin.  _It’s all a matter of perspective really_ , she muses, staring intently at the silver coin, already warm, in the palm of her hand. All she needs to do is keep up with both sides and play to win regardless. _Simple as that, right?_

 _Right._ She lets out a long, drawn out sigh and she frowns when she catches sight of her obscured reflection in the glass of the vending machine. Her out-of-shower hair is tied up in a messy bun and she looks tired. _Figures_.

It’s barely been an hour or so since she got back from a brand new Nano Cola photo shoot, yet another press conference before that and even more training and field testing in the early hours of the morning. Her head aches, and so do her muscles from pushing her body too hard; she feels a little dizzy even. And her habit of drinking caffeinated soft drinks so late at night and substituting skipped meals with unhealthy snacks isn’t doing her much good either, that’s for sure. Hana can’t even remember the last time she could afford the time to just sit down and eat a nice, home-cooked meal – and _Ramyeon_ doesn’t count!

She sighs again, tapping her feet impatiently at the sound of coins dropping – the little mechanical ding of her beverage being released is like music to her ears. She finds herself debating on whether or not she should do a quick stream before bed and in her memory, she sees her father smiling. He ruffles her hair and he tells her, _Don’t stay up all night, kiddo_. Already knowing she wouldn’t listen, he’d say, _Hey now, don’t go and pick up **all** of your old man’s bad habits._ Hana smirks lazily and bends to pick up her drink. _Kek. Too late for that, dad_.

She brushes a few strands of loose hair that fell across her face, tucking them haphazardly behind her ear, and her musings come to a halt when a glowing blue light coming from the balcony at the end of the hall snatches her attention. Hana recognizes it immediately as being a holographic display, and right next to it – in what Hana has come to consider to be her usual spot on that balcony – is the silhouette of a woman: Doctor Ziegler.

Hana feels her lips quirking up in a fond smile. She hasn’t seen the doctor much since she’d briefly shown her around the base, two days ago. Funny how the odds work at times, Hana thinks. Sometimes you just meet the person you least expect in the most unthinkable circumstances. She never thought the doctor would end up coming to Busan, much less that Hana would actually get the chance to spend time with her and get to  _know_ her. ~~~~

Over the years, Hana has heard her fair share of stories about this famous doctor, Angela Ziegler. Orphan of war at a tender age, a brilliant scientist, a devoted advocate for peace; well, moral of every story: this woman is a true hero. A guardian angel. A beacon of hope. Come to think of it, Hana was maybe ten years old – eleven at most – when she first heard them mentioned on TV, the so-called Overwatch heroes. She grew up knowing who they were, of course, how could she not?

But to Hana, those “heroes” had always seemed far away, almost surreal; like they might as well had only ever existed in an old movie or some retro video game. Because they were heroes, yes. They **_were_** , until they weren’t anymore. And so, to Hana, they were just plain old names and history. And if she’s being honest, none of them made a lasting impression on her at first. Not even the doctor. Hell, Hana remembers seeing Angela Ziegler’s picture a few years back and thinking: ‘ _Jin-jah?_ _Is this woman seriously flying around in an actual angel suit? LOL. Talk about overkills._ ’

It wasn’t until she actually _saw_ Angela Ziegler, out, on the field, that Hana finally _understood_ what that woman stood for. Because seeing _Mercy_ then, it was unlike seeing her face and figure on some digital screen or photo, no. That extraordinary encounter was powerful enough to ignite a change of heart.

Blonde hair and glimpses of warm blue eyes, in a dazzling angelic glow… It was very much like gazing at the sun, far off in the distance and already feeling the light of a new, brighter tomorrow. And in that one moment, Angela Ziegler seemed to Hana more real than anything.

That’s when she decided that all the stories… they must be true.

_Heroes never die._

Hana smiles fondly at the recollection as she gazes over to where the doctor is sitting now. Dressed in a white lab coat, she looks completely engrossed in her work; frantically taking notes in a clipboard, rubbing her eyes, wrinkling her nose every now and then.

Hana feels an odd impulse, a strange urge to go be by her side.

She pops another Nano-Cola can out of the vending machine, and she immediately cringes. _Ah, Shi-bal..._ _It has her own face on it! Winking!_ And on top of it written in bright Korean letters: ‘Pink confidence with Nano-Cola!’ _Aigoo._  Hana never really paid it any mind because she’s grown used to it but now that she thinks the doctor will see it too… it’s somehow suddenly extra embarrassing. _Well, maybe she won’t notice_ , Hana reassures herself, though she already doubts it. At last, she shrugs it off as she quietly makes her way down the dim hall and onto the balcony.

 

 

Hana leans over the side of Angela's chair and taps her lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, doc! All work and no play?" she asks and Angela looks up in surprise – her expression appearing almost startled for a fraction of a second before she realizes who it is.

"Hana," Angela acknowledges her presence with the gentlest of smiles and Hana's heart does a little flip. There's something in the way the doctor is saying her name; the sound of it seems almost foreign and yet familiar at the same time. Hana can't help feeling as though something warm is spilling in her chest.

"Would you care for a drink?" She holds the soda cans up, with a smug smile on her face. "And some delightful company?"

Hana points to herself with her thumbs and Angela makes a soft, almost inaudible noise at that—a chuckle.

"Why yes, I would," she says, and Hana grins, eagerly plopping down in the empty leather chair across from the one Angela is comfortably sitting in.

The night air is chilly on her bare arms and Hana can feel some goose bumps forming on her skin. In hindsight, deciding to come outside in only a disheveled, loose crop top and baggy sweatpants might not have been the best idea. _Guess the good company will have to make up for it._ She yawns before she can help herself and Angela gives her a sympathetic look. “Long day?”

Hana replies with a small nod, “Yeah.” She brings her feet up under her to sit cross-legged and leans forward just a tad to hand Angela her drink. Their fingers brush, just barely, though the doctor doesn’t seem to notice or mind as she gladly accepts the offering with a kind smile and a soft ‘ _thank you_ ’. "How about you, doc? How was yesterday's morning meeting?" Hana asks. "Everything alright?"

“Yes.” Angela nods, too. “Everything is coming along quite smoothly,” she says as she finishes writing something on her clipboard then sets it aside to focus on her drink. Hana’s eyes widen briefly when they fixate on the bolded title: **PROJECT_C9H13NO3.**

 _Oh,_  she thinks, realization clicking into place. _So **that’s** what the doctor’s working on. That’s what she was brought here for…_

“Mm. That’s good,” Hana utters absently, staring down at her hands. She’s itching to ask some questions but she doesn’t. It’s none of her business. It’s probably supposed to be confidential, too. And Hana isn’t even supposed to know about it in the first place so she opts to drop the subject altogether. For now, at least. “So.” She pops her soda can open and takes a sip. “Did you sleep well?”

“I didn’t get much sleep, I’m afraid,” Angela admits and Hana notices the shadows under her eyes, more pronounced under the moonlight. The doctor does look tired too. “However, I can assure you that it only has to do with my regular sleeping habits and not so much with the unfamiliar environment,” Angela tells her, and there's such an incredibly alluring serenity reflected in her gaze as she peers out at the scenery stretching out ahead of them. From that balcony, the full sweep of the Busan skyline is visible. The bright and vibrant city lights beckoning from below, a colorful Ferris wheel spinning somewhere in the background. “Quite a change of scenery from the little town of Zürich, back in Switzerland, I must say.”

Angela smiles as she takes her first, tentative sip of the drink, and Hana gulps. The way the doctor’s lips gently press onto the can… it momentarily hypnotizes her for some reason. Her mouth goes dry and she involuntarily licks her lips. She feels strangely captivated and her heart thumps pleasantly in her chest as she lets her eyes trace the long, delicate curve of the doctor’s neck— aaaand she’s caught staring. _Aish!_

Hana realizes now that she's been staring at Angela with what was probably a stupid-looking expression on her face and her palms feel sweaty all of a sudden. She wipes them on her thighs and straightens up in her seat. “Never been to Switzerland.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “What’s it like?” she asks, relieved that her voice doesn’t waver.

"Well," Angela ponders, staring contemplatively off into space. "I personally think it's especially beautiful during the month of December," she says, and Hana can't help but find it charming somehow, the way Angela's foreign accent seems to be dripping from every other word. The doctor takes another sip of her drink then carries on, "When you look out the window and you can see white fields of untouched snow. And you can smell the winter in the air and hear train whistles echoing through the chilly breezes of the night..." She pauses for a moment and closes her eyes for a few brief seconds, as though she's trying to let the very essence of her words sink in and take her all the way into the depths of a memory.

“I guess you must miss it, huh?”

"Oh, I always do," Angela smiles. A sad sort of smile, tinged with a distant fragrance – like an old photograph; the most compelling medley of grace and melancholy. It sends Hana's heart aflutter. "Or rather… I miss it for what it used to be and what it once meant to me. The place from my memories where all of the good yesterdays reside. Back when I would call it 'home' and felt it to be true," she says, and Hana thinks she has a faint idea of what the doctor means. Her parents, her childhood, the glory days of Overwatch… In time, all things change and nothing ever stays the same, not really. Not when all you can see is what is not there anymore.

They sit in silence for a minute or two until Hana spots a certain open tab in a corner of the holographic screen and she perks up, pointing at it, excitedly. “Oh! Mei’s online journal! You read it too?!” Hana can hear the eagerness in her own voice as she continues to gush over it, frantically gesticulating with her hands, “I love it! It’s so cool that she gets to go to so many different places around the world!”

Angela chuckles, heartily. “Yes, she has quite the adventures, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Hana breaths out, settling back in her seat. “I don’t get to travel much,” she admits out loud, with a little bit of indignation in her voice. “You’d think someone in my position would be swimming in opportunities to travel around the world, but that’s not how things really are.” She sighs and decides to stand up, arching her back in a lazy stretch. “I don’t think I have any right to complain about it, though, I mean, I’ve been to Japan a few times. So, there’s that, I guess.”

Hana reaches down for her unfinished drink then steps closer to the edge of the balcony to lean in onto the railing and look across at the scenery. "I love going through Mei's blog and reading her updates," she says, staring out at the twinkling city lights. "It kinda feels like nostalgia, you know, but in reverse. Like I'm longing for the unknown. Places I've never been to before and things I've never set my sights upon." She whirls around from the railing to face Angela. "It's kinda like Starcraft, you know? Or any other RTS game. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that, um, basically, there's a whole map outside of your location waiting to be explored and discovered. Otherwise it's just blanks. And life is supposed to be about filling the blanks, right?"

The doctor gives her a timid look of genuine bewilderment and Hana snorts, “I lost you at RTS, didn’t I?”

Angela hides a chuckle of her own behind her hand, her shoulders practically quivering from her efforts not to laugh out loud. “It all sounds very fascinating, actually,” she says, her words trailing off into giggles.

Hana quirks an amused brow and folds her arms across her chest. “Does it now?”

She wonders what it is about this woman that makes her feel so at ease about pouring her heart out or even about blurting out the most random of things. Maybe it has something to do with the way Angela listens to her. She doesn't interrupt Hana or question her in a condescending way. She doesn't expect Hana to act in a certain way or look at her like she lacks life experience, no. Angela just _listens_ , with an open heart. And Hana finds that extremely liberating, somehow.

"Yeah, well," Hana smiles, "with me around, you won't stay clueless about video games for much longer." She makes it sound like a promise and seals it with a wink.

Angela chuckles some more as though she can't quite argue with that. "I did get your point, though," she says, then adds, more seriously, "and I happen to agree with you. I believe our lives are defined by the chances and the opportunities we take. Even the ones we miss."

Hana’s smile widens. “Right?! That’s what I’m saying! I mean, I’m not sure what’s gonna happen in the future, but— well, I would like to go places and just see what the world has to offer, you know, on the bigger scale.”

Angela nods, with an approving hum. “Speaking of opportunities… Overwatch has taken quite an interest in you,” she tells Hana. “I’ve spoken with Winston earlier today and we’ve come to the agreement that your addition to the team would surely benefit us.” Angela stares at her with a shine in her eyes and Hana feels a shiver of anticipation run up her spine. “In other words, you are very much welcome to join us, back at our main headquarters in Gibraltar. Anytime you’d like.”

Hana quirks a teasing brow then. “In other words, _you_ want me,” she states bluntly and Angela almost chokes on her drink. She frantically tries to cover it with a cough, and the corners of Hana’s lips quirk up in a smirk as she adds, “To join Overwatch.”

“Yes. That—“ Angela clears her throat, as if the words got stuck somewhere in there. “That is precisely what I’ve just said.”

Hana has to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop from grinning too widely at Angela’s distressed tone. True, she practically ended up stating the obvious there but she did it in a way that she knew — or more like secretly hoped — would lead to this kind of reaction. Why? Well, frankly, Hana has no idea why she gets a kick out of teasing the doctor, but for some reason she does. It comes with a sick sense of satisfaction, and it’s almost like she can’t help it.

She finishes her drink off, mildly pleased with herself. Then, on a more serious note, she finally says, “I’ll think about it. Can I… think about it?”

Angela hums in understanding. “Of course. You have plenty of time to consider our offer,” she tells Hana. “Whenever you feel ready, we’ll be waiting.”

Their eyes meet and they sink into a comfortable silence that stretches between them as they continue to simply gaze at one another, with an odd sense of intimacy lingering in the air. In the quiet stillness of the night, Hana can hear the waves beating against the shore. She thinks she can almost smell the sea breeze. She closes her eyes and it makes her wonder… _her joining Overwatch_ …

Hana allows herself to imagine what it would be like to stand among all those renowned heroes, to be part of that experience. Hell, it would be a lie to say that it never even crossed her mind. There's a hole in her heart begging for that kind of adventure, true, but… she turns to look out toward the sea, and then it all comes back to her: that painful reminder.

Just like when she would wake up in the middle of the night, with a jolt and a pounding headache, sweating and trembling, trying to catch her breath as though she’d been drowning. It’s always the same broken images that flutter about her consciousness as she sees it all happening, in her mind's eye, again and again, and all over again, right from the very start – a never ending loop.

Hana remembers hearing her name being called out, people clapping and cheering, her feet skirting across the ground with agile determination. Her heart in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears, she could feel it, she could hear it. She hops in her mech, the squad lines up, the gears kick in and the mission is a go.

The ground is shaking, her lungs feel like they are burning up, and her body responds with a surge of adrenaline. The intensity of it all... unlike anything she's experienced before; such a raw and unrestrained sensation – such an incredible rush!! Hana had never felt more alive. But then…

Then she sees it. For the very first time, outside of history books and archived footage and reports, there it stands. The collosal omnic monstrosity that rose from the depths of the sea, once again, wreaking havoc, senselessly crushing everything and anyone in its way. The initial glamour of the fight instantly fading away, the closer they get… the more apparent it becomes that they are all dead men walking.

Hana remembers seeing people bleed and die. Muffled screams in the distance, missiles being fired and hitting the target to no avail, the crippling smell of her own blood, tears beginning to blur her vision. Loud and desperate calls for help and reinforcements ringing in her ears. A man ripped in half right before her eyes; she felt like throwing up. A horrible, stilted, panicky sensation resonating throughout her entire body…

_Game Over…_

 

Except it wasn’t a game. And it wasn’t a nightmare. It’s cruel reality, with her one, precious life on the line, and Hana can vividly recall now how that realization hit her then. Like a lighting strike; settling into her with cold clarity. She blinked once, twice – trying to focus. Her fight-or-flight instinct reared up and she charged right ahead, gritting her teeth through the pain and cursing under her breath. _If she goes out, she might as well go out with a boom_.

Intitiating the emercengy escape. Activating the self-destruct sequence.

Then everything happens in a blur…

She’s falling, then sinking, and then the world narrows to a pin point where all goes dark and blurry as she watches the explosion unfold. She tries stretching her hand out but her fingers touch nothing… And it was in that one moment, when everything seemed just so far beyond her grasp, with death a heartbeat away, that suddenly everything she's been taking for granted – her life and even the simplest of joys like the sound of a laughter – became unbearably desirable, and Hana remembers thinking...

_I'm too young to die._

 

And that fear stayed with her.

 

When she had opened her eyes then, she was a celebrated hero. People were cheering, chanting her name, sending her flowers, asking for autographs, booking interviews and photo shoots. Call it a stroke of luck or people wishing upon a shooting star – but when the explosion of her mech hit one of the omnic’s cores, it retreated beneath the waves and the illusion of peaceful days took the reins once again.

Maybe she was their shooting star, in the end.

That was the day Hana had closed the door on the simple normalcy of her everyday life and took her fights out of the “digital frontier” and onto the real-life battlefield. And at the end of each day that followed, it’s always the same. When the lights go out, when the feelings of rush and adrenaline evaporate, when people stop looking her way… in those numbered hours before sleep finally creeps up on her, the fear makes itself known. So much that she can feel it in her bones. But Hana has come to realize one thing in the light of everything that's happened.

One needs to know fear to know true courage and that’s what Hana sees when she looks at herself in the mirror.

That’s what these people see in her:  _Courage_.

 

She is their champion.

She is their hero.

This is her home.

 

_And that's why…_

"I have to stick around here for now…" Hana murmurs, staring vacantly into the distance and hearing her own voice as if it's coming from miles and miles away. She sighs softly. _It's my duty._

She sighs again as she realizes that her stream of thoughts had taken a depressing turn and she shakes her head, ordering herself to snap out of it.

She turns around only to find the doctor fast asleep on the leather chair; arms crossed over her chest, clipboard still in hand, her breathing deep and steady. It makes Hana genuinely smile. _Guess she's been contemplating for much longer than she'd intended to, huh_. The doctor must have decided not to disturb her while she was so obviously cut off from the present and stuck wandering inside her own mind.

For a second there, Hana considers poking Angela awake, just to see how she’d react. But she can’t bring herself to actually do it. Not when the doctor looks so surprisingly peaceful like that, so deep in slumber, as though not even the loudest sound could possibly wake her up. _She must have been working all day…_ Her blonde hair is slightly tousled from meeting the back of the chair; a tuft of hair sticking up from behind her left ear, tickling at her nose, and she looks like she might sneeze. The sight of it gives Hana a warm, pleasant tingle in her stomach as she reaches down to carefully brush the stray hair behind Angela’s ear. And Hana doesn’t know if she does it because the doctor looks so disarmingly vulnerable like that or because of the way her calming scent seems to invade all of Hana’s senses but, before she can stop herself, she lets the tips of her fingers caress Angela's forehead, ever so gently, a few seconds too long. Angela shivers at the contact and Hana flinches her hand away.

She blames it all on the late hour and the chilly night air.

"You'll catch a cold like this, you know," she tells Angela in a whisper, wishing she'd have a blanket to drape over her.

 _Yeah, you're a fine one to talk, Song-Hana,_ she tells herself, yawning a little. _What time is it anyway?_  She takes a quick glance at her holo-watch: _11:46 PM_ – midnight is just around the corner. _Right_ , she'll give the doctor a few more minutes to catch some shut-eye. She'll wait for the clock to strike twelve and wake the doctor up then. And as she gazes up at the starry sky and the moon, Hana starts counting the minutes to midnight like people do on New Year's Eve. She can't help thinking that… well, she wouldn't mind living in that moment just for a little while longer.

With Angela by her side, somehow, everything just feels right.


	3. Technicolor Dimensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the thirst is real.

**WEDNESDAY – November 2 nd**

**6:04 AM**

 

It’s barely dawn when Angela walks out of her room, all-around prepared to start off yet another day on the right foot.

Her daily routine is, frankly, quite simple and she had no difficulty settling into it. She’s gradually getting accustomed to the city itself as well, its people and their mannerisms. It doesn’t feel so foreign anymore.

As far as her work goes, well, to put it simply, she’s been more or less left to her own device and Angela intends to not disappoint.

It’s required of her to attend conference meetings two times a week, late in the afternoon, whenever discussions that pertain to the management of the project she is working on are brought up but other than that, she’s been given the liberty to conduct her work however she pleases. Granted that she keeps the stipulated deadline in mind, of course. She has a team of specialists and chemists at her disposal, ready to offer their assistance when or if needed, though Angela would say she tends to prefer the quiet and peace of working alone, per usual.

She has a clear image in her mind of what needs to be done and how to do it, so she goes about seeking the results that are expected of her with no interferences or spontaneous changes in her day-to-day schedule; not unless necessary.

But, well, naturally, there is still room for _some_ exceptions every now and then, Angela thinks, just as she catches a blur of motion in her peripheral vision and, almost instinctively, she knows exactly who to expect. She slows down her steps, feeling a pang of endearment swelling up in her chest and a smile tugging at her lips as she watches Hana saunter in her general direction, covering her mouth as she yawns with absolutely no grace. She looks more asleep than awake, but her face lights up the instant she spots Angela.

“Doctor! _Annyeong Haseyo_!” Hana greets her with a little wave of her hand, and the mood shimmers with a comforting sort of familiarity as they fall into step, walking side by side, in a relaxed manner, on the way to the elevator. Watching the younger girl brim with self-assurance even in the earlier hours of the morning is truly a refreshing sight to behold. There’s always a playful bounce to each and every one of her movements, which only goes to add an upbeat and skittish note to her entire presence. It’s an aspect of her that Angela rapidly grew so very fond of.

"Hana," Angela greets her in return, wholly affectionately, " _Guten Morgen._ You're up early."

The girl crosses her arms over her chest and grins lazily. “I’ll have you know that I’m usually up earlier than this,” she says as they wait for the doors of the glass-elevator to slide open.

“Is that so,” Angela muses. Well, that certainly explains why this is the first time she’s bumped into Hana in the mornings, considering the fact that their rooms are on the same floor. Not to mention that they even share the same hallway.

"Yeah. Today is a rare exception, actually," Hana says, and Angela can't help but smile at the coincidental choice of words as they step inside the elevator. _Exception_ , _exceptions_. Seems as though a pattern is slowly but surely emerging seeing how Angela is always more than willing to make exceptions if it means she gets to spend a little more time with the Hana. Perhaps she wouldn't admit it out loud, but Angela grew fond of even the most inane of their exchanges and the simplest of details. Such as the way Hana seems to have made a habit out of using the appellative ' _doctor_ ' when referring her. Angela doesn't mind it. Not at all, in fact. It might be done purely out of respect and yet, somehow, it sounds more like a term of endearment when Hana says it.

“I’m going all the way down. What about you?” Hana lets her forefinger hover over the glowing floor numbers waiting for Angela’s reply; her eyebrows raised, expectantly.

“The laboratory,” Angela is quick to give the answer. “I usually stop by there first. Before I head downstairs for breakfast, that is,” she explains, and Hana snickers as though she’d expected to hear exactly that. “Come to think of it…” Angela ponders, when the elevator starts going down, “I’ve been in Busan for a little more than a week now and I’ve never seen you in the cafeteria.”

“Um, I usually just grab a quick snack or a sandwich before I head out,” Hana mumbles, busy checking her reflection. “Besides, I don’t really have that much of an appetite in the morning—” Her stomach growls, as if on cue.

Angela tries her best to keep her face as straight as possible but it’s proving to be a very difficult task. “I believe your appetite would beg to differ,” she quips, unable to contain herself any longer, and she has to bite her lip to stifle a giggle when Hana’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink and she purses her lips in a cute little pout. _Really, it’s cute_.

The girl mutters something in Korean under her breath then slumps her shoulders with an air of defeat when she realizes that it’s very much so an inopportune moment to try and protest. She can’t quite argue with the transparent reality of things now, can she? And so, the case is rested. Angela feels pleased.

"Why don't you meet me for breakfast later?" She proposes just as the doors slide open on her floor. She steps out of the elevator and turns around to add, almost as an afterthought: "Doctor's orders."

She does it more in jest than anything but Hana is quick to react and, in the couple of seconds that follow, Angela is taken by surprise as Hana darts her hands forward and clutches the sleeves of Angela's lab coat, carefully tugging her back inside. And just like that, in one swift move, Angela is pulled back inside the elevator and the doors slide close.

Hana gives her a little lopsided smirk. “I’ll have to take you up on that offer right now, doctor,” she says. “Orders are orders.” She shrugs and casually pops her bubblegum.

 _Well._ Angela won’t argue with that. She could, but it wouldn’t be in her best interest to do so she doesn’t protest. She lets it happen.

 

 

They leisurely make their way downstairs and Hana leads the way to the cafeteria, then into the kitchen. “The staff only gets here at like 6:30 so we have some time to ourselves,” Hana tells her, to which Angela can’t help but ask, “Are we permitted to use the kitchen on our own account?” She knows for a fact that the office cafeteria only opens at 8:00 AM. After all, that is the sole reason why she has to put off breakfast for later.

“You’re permitted if you’re me,” Hana says bluntly; a brief flicker of smugness on her face. “Or **with** me.”

“Is that so?” Angela chuckles. “Well, I suppose I will have to trust you on this.”

Hana clicks her tongue and breezes past her to go rummage around. “I’m gonna make myself a _misugaru_ smoothie,” she says, standing on her tip toes to reach for something in one of the top cupboards. She tosses Angela a quick look over her shoulder. “Want one?”

Angela gives her a small smile in response and nods affirmatively so Hana pulls two plastic cups with lids down from the cupboard and steadily places them on the marble countertop. “They know I sometimes drop by,” Hana adds, more seriously, and with a note of reassurance in her tone. “The kitchen staff, I mean. They are used to it so they won’t bat an eye. You can really trust me on this.”

It's not as though Angela had any real doubts about it to begin with. It goes without saying that she does trust Hana, however foolish that may be.

She watches the girl move around with ease and confidence, as though she has it all memorized; where everything goes and where everything is supposed to be. Evidently, Hana has been here plenty of times prior to this. Enough times to clearly know her way around the kitchen. “I can see that you’re quite used to this,” Angela remarks. “To this particular kind of routine.”

“Well, yeah. I have some of these sometimes.” Hana taps the lid of one of the plastic cups. “They’re like a power up juice.” She takes two straws from a bag and sticks them into place. “It’s just that when I’m in a rush or short on time or just not in the mood for it, I skip the smoothie making,” she explains, and Angela hums in understanding. She ponders about it for a second or two, then she voices her opinion on the matter.

“I don’t mean to meddle but couldn’t you, perhaps, have one of these people make them for you?”

“Nah, it’s not the same,” Hana snickers. “Not with these. They only taste _just right_ when I make them with my own two hands.”

She brings a honey jar on the table, and Angela can’t quell the need to ask, “And are they… nutritious?”

“They are delicious,” Hana says matter-of-factly as she dips a spoon in the jar and gently swirls it around. Angela opens her mouth to say something else— “And _nutritious_ ,” Hana interjects, stressing the last word, then she smiles. “My mom used to make me these, you know.”

Angela can make out a touch of fondness in Hana's tone. It’s somewhat heartwarming and Angela finds that she would like to know the story behind it. To know more about Hana’s family, where she comes from, her upbringing… she yearns to know _more_ about Hana.

 

“They really are delicious, though,” Hana says. “Especially when I make them, obviously.” She stops and stares at Angela with a glint of a challenge in her eyes. Then she grins. It’s a wicked grin. The kind that makes the blood in Angela’s veins instantly run a little faster and has her insides twisting up at the mere sight of it. “Since, you know—” Hana lets her voice trail off suggestively. “I _am_ pretty handy with my fingers.” She wiggles her eyebrows teasingly as she dips a finger into the honey jar, scooping some to her mouth and hums at the taste. The finger leaves her mouth with a muted pop, and Angela parts her lips at the effortlessly sensual display. Absurdly, she blushes and as if sensing her discomposure, Hana continues, “I always know **_exactly_** which buttons to press.” Her voice drifts through Angela’s head like an echoing whisper, the words tapping at her brain creating pathways she dare not analyze.

Angela has to swallow, reminding herself how to breathe. She chokes back a cough and Hana snorts in response. “Perks of being a pro-gamer and all that,” she says, visibly amused, on her way to the refrigerator. She opens it and sticks her head in. “Should we go for bananas and strawberries?”

Angela simply nods, not quite trusting herself to speak.

“Roger that.” Hana takes out the bananas, a bag of frozen strawberries and a carton of milk. She proceeds to blend the frozen strawberries with the milk, humming happily to herself, and Angela takes it upon herself to peel the bananas just so that she can look away for a moment; distract herself.

Much to her relief, the conversation does trail off, which gives her a couple of minutes to quietly collect herself. And she feels utterly and deeply ashamed of herself. _Mein Gott…_ _Just what has gotten into herself?_

She could use a cup of coffee. Perhaps two. And her mind deserves a severe reprimanding but thankfully, Angela has enough dignity in her to not tolerate her mind conjuring any… ** _indecent_** thoughts from a few harmless lines.

 

“Can you get the misu powder?” She hears Hana ask over the sound of the blender, dragging Angela away from her stream of thoughts. Hana tilts her head towards one of the cupboards in her vicinity. “It’s in that one.”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” Angela complies and starts looking around for it. Though, embarrassingly enough, she can’t quite tell which one is supposed to be the right powder. There are several glass containers with no labels whatsoever, and she reckons good culinary chefs don’t need any labels to tell ingredients apart, but from Angela’s current point of view it seems incredibly unjust to clueless outsiders such as herself.

She picks up one at random, inspecting it… and she must have taken her time rummaging around because before she knows it, the incessant sound of the blender stops and Hana is right beside her. "Did you find it?" Her voice is right next to Angela's ear and it startles her a little. She fumbles with the glass container in her hands and she manages to mumble an incoherent reply.

Hana shuffles closer so that she's peeking over Angela's shoulder, and she giggles, "That's flour." Her warm breath tickles at the base of Angela's ear; she can smell the faint scent of bubblegum on Hana's breath. "Beginner's mistake," she says, playfully giving Angela's shoulder a nudge, and Angela can't quite stop the way her heart gives an extra little thud when Hana brings a hand to the small of her back to steady herself as she reaches out for the misu powder. It’s a fleeting touch, barely there, but Angela has to fight back a shiver, still. She swallows, distinctly affected by the proximity. Her skin buzzes from the sensation and she’s left tingling when Hana draws back.

 _This is beyond ridiculous now._  She gives her head a mental shake. _Her hormones are behaving like… **savages**. _ _It must be that time of the month…_

 

It doesn’t take more than five minutes, Angela approximates, for Hana to get the smoothies done. She gives the filled cups one final wiggle and confidently approaches Angela. "Here." She hands Angela the smoothie, with an encouraging nod. "Go ahead. Try it." She looks at Angela with a gleeful kind of expectancy in her eyes; like she's just given Angela a present and she's eagerly waiting for her to unwrap it right then and there.

Angela can't help but smile; possibly more grateful for the fact that her mind and the mood itself seem to have cooled off. She takes a sip, feeling the flavor burst on her tongue; sweet and creamy. " _Oh._ They _are_ delicious," she finally says, and Hana takes that confirmation with a grin, wide and just a little bit cocky, as if saying ' _told you so_ '.

 

“Say, doctor…” Hana begins, tentatively, as though testing the waters before she dives in. “Do you want to do something fun?”

Angela is already halfway through her smoothie when she catches the tail end of the sentence Hana’s been uttering. She raises her eyebrows, hoping Hana would care to repeat.

“I asked if you wanted to do something fun,” Hana tries again, fiddling with her straw. “Not right now, obviously, but, I mean, like, when we both have time…”

 _Something fun?_ That sounds purposefully vague, and Angela isn’t quite sure what to make of it. She clears her throat. “And what do you propose… exactly?” she asks, with a hint of curiosity and an undertone of nervousness.

Hana takes a nonchalant sip then lowers her cup. “I don’t know, a movie or something,” she suggests, shrugging her shoulders.

“Oh,” Angela chuckles, with a vague sense of relief. “That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”

Hana snickers then leans on her side against the countertop, cheek resting on her palm as she watches Angela, with a small but sly smile on her face. “Geez, I wonder what _did_ you expect me to say?” Her voice is so full of mischief that Angela catches herself laughing heartily before she can even stop herself. _What_ _**did** she expect_ _really?_ Angela should have already grown used to Hana's penchant for playing around.

“Nothing all too outrageous,” she assures Hana and the girl simply hums in amusement, letting it slide.

“A movie it is then,” Hana confirms, twirling the straw between her fingers. She takes a sip, then grins up at Angela. “And I’m guessing it’s safe to cross _Hero of my Storm_ off the list ‘cause you’ve already seen it, right?” She seems so enthusiastic about it that Angela fidgets a little under the intensity of her stare. She almost doesn’t have the heart to deny it but she can’t quite bring herself to lie either.

“Can’t say I have,” Angela admits and offers up a sheepish smile.

Hana feigns a gasp of shock in mock outrage. “What do you mean you’ve never seen—“ She pauses and scowls to make sure that Angela can see just how deeply offended she is. “That’s not just any movie, you know. I’m talking about _my_ movie here. The one and only: _Hero of my storm_!” She huffs dramatically; dare Angela say, like a bona fide _diva_. It’s comical, endearing even, and Angela smiles almost despite herself.

“Just kidding, it’s not that great of a movie plot-wise,” Hana sniggers. “Anyway, let’s see…” She wrinkles her nose. “I have a scheduled stream to do tonight **but—** ” She finishes her drink with a final, loud slurp and throws the empty plastic cup in a bin nearby. “Tomorrow night.” She sternly points a finger at Angela’s chest, smirking. “Trashy movie or not, you’re watching it with me. Deal?”

Angela nods almost reflexively. She doesn’t have to think about it, really. She is genuinely curious now.

“Awesome!” Hana bursts out. “Now c’mon, we better get going. The staff will be here any minute now.”

 

* * *

 

**THURSDAY – November 3 rd**

**9:20 PM**

 

Hana is waiting in front of Room 106. With her back pressed against the wall, hands thrust in the pockets of the baggy jacket she threw over her plugsuit on her way back from the underground facility. It’s getting chilly outside, and just about everywhere. If she’s being honest, it’s kind of a miracle she didn’t catch a cold yet.

She hears the sound of a familiar pair of footsteps approaching, and she immediately perks up. “Doctor!”

Angela is wearing a loose pullover sweater and black leggings, her hair is down and Hana can’t help the way her gaze travels up and down, mouth agape, taking in the sight. She’s most definitely _not_ checking Angela out or anything, it’s just that Hana’s never seen her in casual clothes before and she looks… real nice.

“Hana,” Angela smiles fondly. “How was your day?”

“Um, just the usual,” Hana shrugs, trying to come off as nonchalant as possible. “How about you?” She kind of wishes she would’ve slipped into something more comfortable too. Because she could have, but her impatience bubbled over and got the best of her and now here she is, still in her plugsuit, suddenly too tight and too hot on her skin. 

“Just the usual,” Angela repeats the same three words and Hana gives her a nod of understanding. She gets it. She does. Busy day and all that. And for a moment there, Hana can't help but wonder if the doctor would maybe prefer to head out to her room and rest instead of being here. _Aish,_ _is she being too pushy?_ But Angela wouldn’t just go along with her whims if she really didn’t feel like it, would she? So, there’s no point in getting discouraged now.  _Right._

Hana unlocks the door with her virtual passkey and steps inside, beckoning Angela to follow.

“Welcome to my gaming room!” she announces boastfully.

“I thought your room was—“

“That’s just my bedroom. Though sometimes I do some casual streaming from there too. But this—“ Hana motions around with her hands, proudly. “This is where the _real_ magic happens! Impressed?”

The doctor’s eyes roam around, taking in the surrounds as best as she can. The room is close to what anyone would envision it to be like, though it’s more like a home cinema room, in terms of dimensions, now that Hana thinks about it. Still, she has everything she needs here. She even has one of those retro DDR arcade machine because, well, if she’s allowed to and she can afford it, then why not.

She eagerly watches as Angela wanders past the tall shelves filled with video games, scanning the spines and covers, her fingers trailing over the cases of each game as though she's trying to soak in as much detail as she can. Everything here must be new to her; like a completely foreign world to her eyes.

“The video game collection is all mine,” Hana lets her know with a smile of joy and satisfaction. “Some of the titles – the older ones – used to be my dad’s. Back in his glory days of gaming…” Which is mostly the reason why Hana even bothers with keeping all these video games on actual shelves rather than a virtual library. Because this way, it reminds her of home.

Angela’s hand hovers over a certain game, she picks it up and turns it over. “How curious…” she murmurs. “This handwriting… It looks awfully familiar.” She pauses as if she’s trying to pinpoint exactly where she might have seen that particular handwriting before. “It reminds me of Reinhardt’s.” She turns her head just a fraction to look at Hana, fixing her with a curious stare, holding the plastic case up.  _Oh, Dark Souls_.

“Yeah, he gave me that,” Hana confirms. “He said he’d like me to have it.” She giggles, while setting up the projector. “He even asked for my autograph.”

“Reinhardt?” Angela asks, as though to verify that they are both talking about the same person. She sounds amused.

“Yup. He's a big fan,” Hana huffs out a laugh, getting the snacks and drinks ready. She takes off her jacket, stretches a little, kicks off her shoes and plops down the long sectional leather sofa. “It’s a secret, though. Don't tell him I spilled the beans.”

Hana pats the seat next to her invitingly and Angela smiles at her in a way that says she’s in on the joke.

“The secret is safe with me,” Angela chuckles as she returns the video game to its rightful place on the shelf and takes a seat next to Hana, making herself comfortable. They’re sitting close to each other; close enough to feel one another when they shift a little, or to easily pass something between them, but not too close that they’d be bumping elbows.

“Ready?” Hana asks, adjusting the lights in the room accordingly, and Angela nods.

 

“I know I already told you this but it’s not that great of a movie really, so don’t expect too much,” Hana reminds her just as the opening credits start appearing on the big screen. “I mean, you know, it’s just the kind of movie that’s heavy packed with action, explosions, CGI effects, and all that."

 

Five minutes into the movie and Angela is probably already fully aware that Hana was not exaggerating. Hell, the introduction of Hana’s character is practically her yelling “ _Nerf this!_ ” as she jumps off a building and a grand explosion unfolds behind her. She lands on the ground perfectly and strikes an overly-dramatic pose with her hair blowing in the wind as she casually pops her bubblegum and says, “ _I thought you were going to be a challenge._ ”

Hana wonders if Angela can tell that most of her lines weren't even scripted. She went _ad lib_ a lot. Alright, if she's being honest, she didn't even really _act_. More like, she just kind of went with the flow, and had some fun.  _Whatever, who cares, she's the main attraction and they milked plenty of cash out if it anyway._

 

"There's a little bit of romance thrown in the mix later on too, just so you know," Hana mutters out of the corner of her mouth, and Angela purses her lips, visibly tensing up.

Angela looks at her with wide eyes and Hana watches the bob in her throat as she swallows in right before she asks, "Romance?"

Hana notices the dip in her tone but she wonders if she just imagined that flicker of displeasure on the doctor's face because for an instant there, Angela looked utterly crestfallen.

Then it clicks.

 _Oh_. Hana gets it. Romantic subplots must not be Angela's cup of tea. _Got it._

She scoots closer and leans in to whisper, "Don't worry, doctor, it's not completely unnecessary to the plot or anything." She tries to be reassuring. "It's actually kind of sweet, you'll see. Robert Greenways and Thespion 4.0 did a great job at playing that part while I'm literally just there to chew bubblegum and kick ass—" Her eyes go wide and she slaps her forehead at the realization. "Oh shit, spoiler alert!"

Angela shakes her head in amusement. "That's alright," she says, and she sounds almost relieved, somehow. "I look forward to it now." She brings her eyes back to the big screen, letting out a breathy chuckle that washes over Hana like a warm blanket. And from that point onward, she can’t really bring herself to pay attention to the movie itself anymore.

 

It’s a good thing she already knows what happens because she’s merely been half-listening to what’s being said on the big screen but instead, she hears every sigh, every chuckle, every small noise that Angela makes. It’s just that… the doctor is always out of the corner of her eye, and Hana is completely _absorbed_ and so easily distracted by even the smallest details. The rise and fall of Angela’s chest, the way her eyelashes flutter, the soft outline of her nose, the slender column of her neck, collarbones peeking out from her loose pullover sweater…

Hana swallows as heat rushes through her, simmering in her stomach and flowing up her neck. _Yeah, she should have definitely changed into something less… tight._

She swallows again, which does little to alleviate her suddenly dry mouth so the next best idea is to reach out for a can of Nano Cola. She takes a sip and shifts a little to sit cross-legged but her knee bumps against Angela’s thigh a little and it ultimately comes to rest against Angela’s leg, brushing it ever so often, and Hana is acutely aware of it. All of a sudden everything else just seems to just pale in significance compared to that one, tiny touch.

Hana bites the inside of her lip and looks away.

She hears the loud, dramatic music that signals the beginning of the grand finale and she tries her best to narrow her focus back to the big screen.

She watches one of the characters give the big speech before the final battle but it only plays like faded, background noise in her mind.

 

“ _Today. Today... At the edge of our hope, we have chosen not only to believe in ourselves, but in each other._

_Today there is not a human nor an omnic in here that shall stand alone. Not today._

_Today we shall face the storm that threatens to tear our world apart!_

_Today, we are **canceling** the apocalypse!_ ”

 

After what feels like forever, or at least the longest fifteen minutes of Hana’s life, the screen turns black, the closing credits start to roll, and Hana feels glad that it’s _finally_ over.

She feels an even more overwhelming sense of relief when she turns on the lights.

“Well… that was… quite something,” Angela says, laughing a little into her hand and it makes Hana’s lips twitch too.

 _Yeah, it sure was quite something,_ Hana muses, then manages to shake it off and laugh out loud. “Yeah, it probably looked better in their head, you know, when they were writing the script.”

Angela giggles, “Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t a terrible movie. It was very entertaining.”

“That’s kind of what they were going for in the first place so, point scored.” Hana leans her head against the back of the couch, yawning a little. “On the surface at least. Because the core of the storyline was supposed to be deeper like um, what’s the word…”

She gazes absently at the lights on the ceiling, with the word she’s looking for on the tip of her tongue. Angela seems to be thinking about it too, for a heartbeat or two, before replying, “I’m assuming you mean a subliminal message of sorts?” _Close enough._

"Yeah, something like that," Hana says. "I'm sure you already know this, doctor, but the omnics… they have it hard here in South Korea, too. For obvious reasons. And so, with one omnic and one human in the lead, they had two clashing mindsets. So, I'm— I mean, my character was supposed to fill that gap. To be the bridge between the two worlds and unite them into a singular force so that the bigger threat can be defeated. The central storm. Basically, my character is supposed to be the hero who doesn't pick sides and simply fights for the right cause, for the greater good. And this movie, in its own way, I guess, was supposed to help with that issue in the real world too. Even if just a little." Hana stops talking and chances a glance at Angela to make sure she's been following and is not bored to death by now, but Angela's eyes are definitely on her, attentive; more than that, she keeps gazing at Hana with this dreamy, faraway look as if she's admiring a painting in an art gallery or something...

It makes Hana feel uncharacteristically self-conscious. _Maybe she rambled on about it a little too much?_

Hana swallows down the nervous sound she wants to make and gets up from the sofa to stretch a little just so she can look away; get a grip on herself. “So, yeah, that’s about it.” She clears her throat. “Not gonna lie though, I _was_ disappointed that I didn’t get to go to Hollywood to film this,” she blurts out, eager to fill the silence. “L.A.’s totally my kind of city. Lights, camera, action!”

“Oh. You didn’t?” Angela asks, taking cue from Hana’s action and standing up.

"Nope. They'd already finished shooting by the time I got contacted for the deal. All of my scenes are filmed here in Busan and then added later on in the editing process," Hana explains, picking up the long forgotten can of Nano Cola. "I only met Robert Greenways and Thespion 4.0 in person when we had to promote the movie here in South Korea."

She takes a small mouthful of the juice then offers Angela that very same can for a sip, so as to be polite and without giving it a second thought, but when, to her momentary surprise, the doctor _does_ take the drink and finishes it off, Hana's brain wires up and she gulps.  _What is she even getting so worked up over?_

“How come?” She hears Angela ask, and Hana goes ahead and shakes off any distracting and completely unnecessary thoughts.

 _She’s been way off her game today, really._ Hana sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “My guess is that they’ve realized that they needed an extra _something_ to make sure the movie sells and doesn’t flop at the box office or whatever.” She musters up a grin; playing it cool. “And let’s be real, what better way to get people to come see the movie than having the one and only D.Va in it, right? With my face up front on the poster, it was a guaranteed success.” She flips her hair to go with the compulsory ego boost, then adds, with smug modesty, “Of course, I can't take _all_ the credit.”

“Of course,” Angela chuckles heartily. “Well, for what it’s worth, I did think you were quite spectacular,” she says, with pure unbridled honesty that makes Hana blush at the sudden praise. Her heart thrills, her chest swells up with pride. And she’s once again, outplayed and outmatched. And it’s funny, really. Hana gets praised all the time; she’s used to it. Then Angela goes ahead and does the exact same thing and with just a couple of words, it’s somehow more fulfilling and valuable to Hana than a million people’s worth of reverence and applauds.

Angela checks her holo-watch, trying to stifle a yawn, then smiles. “It’s getting late. Should we—”

“Yeah, we should probably go to bed now,” Hana agrees. _Wait, that came out wrong, didn't it?!_  “To sleep, obviously. In different beds, I mean.”

_Very smooth, Song-Hana, very smooth._

But Angela lets out an airy laugh in response, averting her eyes, and Hana thinks Angela is probably starting to get secondhand embarrassment by now or something.  _Yikes._ Hana could definitely use a deep, good night’s rest right about now.


	4. Synthesized

**SUNDAY – November 6 th**

**4:45 PM**

 

“Hana. What is this?”

“This,” Hana says, casually gesturing to the arcade machine in front of them, “is Dance Dance Revolution!”

“I can see that,” Angela intones wryly, nodding her head towards the title, spelled out in glowing letters, on the top of the machine. “But I’ve been told you wanted to see me. And that it was, I quote, urgent business.”

“This is super urgent business actually,” Hana enunciates, but Angela merely quirks a doubtful eyebrow in response, with her arms folded across her chest; she doesn’t look convinced. Hana sighs, “Alright, here’s the deal.” She slams her hands on her hips, determined and ready to persuade. “I have some free time right now and I figured we could catch a break.” She motions between the two of them. “You know, both of us. Together.”

“A break?” Angela repeats, seemingly unsure what to make of it. “But—”

Hana is quick to cut her off before she can protest any further. “Doctor, listen. You’ve been cooped up in your lab for three days.” She holds three fingers up to emphasize her point, giving Angela a ‘ _be reasonable_ ’ look. “You _need_ and could use a break, and besides—” She takes off her hoodie and throws it onto the sofa— “One small break can’t do you more harm than good, don’t you think? I mean, c’mon, you _know_ I’m right.”

Angela tilts her head to the side, touching a hand to her chin thoughtfully, actively considering. “You do have a point, I suppose,” she ponders, letting out a small, defeated sigh – a sign of surrender. “How does this work?”

Hana’s face lights up with a big enthusiastic smile, eyes gleaming. _Yes! She shoots, she scores!_ The sweet, sweet taste of victory.

Hana grins and steps onto the game platform, cracking her knuckles. “Just watch me, alright? I’ll demonstrate.” She swiftly goes through the list of available songs on the display until she finds _the one_ and she throws the doctor one quick wink over the shoulder before hitting _play_ , “Then we both try, okay?”

“Okay,” Angela nods and watches her carefully.

 

Hana can practically _feel_ the doctor’s eyes on her, patient and intent.

It makes her feel all restless and tingly and her heart begins to pound as [the beat of the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SeHwwZtBSnM) pulls her in. 

She moves with ease, methodically, rapidly adjusting her steps to the ever-growing upbeat rhythm, and she can’t quite control the surge of adrenaline she gets as she begins to move faster, then faster and faster. Constantly increasing the pace, her heart flutters for every combo she hits right; the fluorescent glow of the on-screen arrows filling her up with utmost excitement and an electric kind of thrill. It’s almost like she’s accelerating as one with the speed of the entire world, racing against time itself, just sprinting ahead towards the unknown and only living for the adventure of it all. And she goes fast! Faster!! Faster!!!

 

It’s a **_perfect score!_**

 

_CLEARED!_

 

Hana ends the round with an air fist pump and a, “Boom shakalaka! She's on fire!” A bead of sweat trickles down her temple and she exhales whilst wiping it away. “Phew, Combo Queen right here,” she quips as she turns around and smacks her almost forgotten bubblegum in her mouth to blow and pop a celebratory bubble. Angela is staring right at her, clapping absently, with sheer awe reflected in her eyes. She looks thoroughly and genuinely impressed, and Hana allows herself the numbered seconds of silence to bask in the attention and the quiet praise.

Angela lets out a breathy and anxious chuckle then, as though she can hardly believe it that she had agreed to indulge herself in doing something like this too. “This is not right for my age,” she murmurs, timidly fixing the hems of her black polo shirt.

Their eyes meet and Hana offers her an encouraging smile. “C’mon, doc.” She gives a nonchalant shrug. “There’s no age restriction for fun.”

“I suppose not,” Angela chuckles; her features visibly beginning to relax a tad. She takes off her lab coat and places it neatly next to Hana’s hoodie on the couch. “Well then,” she says, after tucking her shirt into her pants with a remnant hint of nervousness. “Shall we?”

Hana’s lips quirk up into a fierce grin. “This is going to be so much fun,” she predicts as she grabs Angela’s wrist to help her onto the platform.

With the next song all set and prepared on the screen and still riding off the energy of the previous round, Hana is feeling positively impatient to get it started. “Ready?” She asks. Angela brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and gives a stiff, final nod.

 

The [music starts playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTL5P5TNaTo) and they are haphazardly out of sync, with Hana moving fast and Angela missing almost all the steps.

The doctor looks so distressed and completely out of her element that Hana can’t help but find it cute, somehow. The way Angela scans the moving arrows on the screen with her eyes focused in and brows creased like she’s thinking too hard, trying to make some sense out of it, really, _it’s cute_.

“You’re doing fine, don’t worry too much about it,” Hana tells her, reassuringly, when the song accelerates a bit.

Hana knows the steps to this song by heart. It’s a low-difficulty one compared to the no-bar double expert challenge she did on her solo try. Because this time around, she doesn’t want to show off. And she doesn’t want Angela to feel pressured.

All she wants is for them to do this together and have some fun. Simple as that.

She wants to see the doctor smile.

 

“Just follow my lead.” Hana takes Angela’s hand and deliberately falls a few steps back to match Angela’s tempo and so they succeed in synchronizing their movements at last. Angela loosens up too and picks up the pace. Her eyes crinkle with a tinge of happiness and Hana can tell now that she is starting to enjoy this as much as Hana hoped she would. It sends a thrill of absolute gleeful excitement coursing through her veins.

_This is it!_

They manage to balance each other out in a coordinated effort to perfectly mirror the pattern of steps appearing on screen and the air around them crackles with electricity, then a giddy anticipation as the song nears its end. Hana’s heart thumps loudly in her chest, her pulse in her throat; a silly thought crosses her mind for a second or two, in-between the resonance of the final sounds, she wonders if it’s possible for two hearts to beat in unison too.

A perfect harmony of heartbeats, she imagines. And Angela gives her hand a tiny squeeze when it ends.

 

_CLEARED!_

 

“Whoa! That was awesome!” Hana exhales in a deep shuddering breath, feeling laughter bubbling up in her throat. “And not bad at all for a noob, doctor!” She pokes Angela in the side, watching in amusement as she squirms then giggles a little in her attempts to regulate her own breathing too, “Should I take that as a compliment?” Angela asks.

Hana sinks down onto the sofa. “You should definitely take that as a compliment,” she snickers, leaning her head against the back of the couch.

Angela takes a seat next to her and they end up laughing together, in raggedy breaths – a shared moment of pure elation as the rush of energy wears off.

 

After a quick glance at her holo-watch, Hana realizes it’s past 6PM already and quietly swallows down her disappointment. _Time sure went by fast_ …

She has a scheduled stream to do in about an hour and she needs a shower, but right now she wants nothing more than to remain in Angela’s company. It occurs to her that a few hours a day don’t feel _enough_ anymore; she can’t help but crave for _more_.

“Are you up for one more game? A quick one?” She asks Angela, selfishly hoping the doctor would stick around for just a little while longer. A vague sense of guilt floods through her at the unwelcome thought that she may be too brash and taking advantage of the doctor’s kind-hearted nature to sate her own greed, but Hana tries to take comfort in the possibility that maybe, just maybe, the doctor isn’t too eager to flee the scene either.

"I suppose we could spare a few more minutes for a quick game," Angela smiles, and it's the look in her eyes – affectionate and sincere – and the way she says ' _we'_ – that puts Hana's mind at ease and makes her feel better at once. She turns the big screen on and hands Angela a controller.

“So. Street Fighter or Mortal Kombat? Your choice.”

“They both sound quite _barbaric_ ,” Angela replies. “Street… Fighter? It sounds less _fatal_.”

Hana snorts. “You have no idea. Alright then, Street Fighter it is!”

 

Chun-Li _VS_ Ibuki

Round 1

**Fight!**

 

“Which one am I?”

“The one on the left. C’mon doc, you literally just picked her yourself seconds ago.”

She hears Angela chuckle, in a somewhat sheepish tone. “I see. And which button do I press to heal you?”

“Wha— There’s no healing button. You have to knock me out. Hit me until my HP drops to zero,” Hana tells her, holding back on a giggle. “Here.” She scoots closer to go over the control basics, slowly and patiently, making sure Angela is following all of her explanations.

“Now try punching me or kicking me or something.”

And Angela _tries_. She starts with holding and pressing the same button, repeatedly, then another, and a couple more jumps and aimless kicks later, she manages to move her character towards Hana’s, enough to corner her.

1-HIT-2HIT 1HIT 1HIT 1HIT-2HIT

 

“I get the feeling you are going easy on me,” Angela comments, throwing Hana a few sidelong glances in-between on-screen kicks and punches, and Hana gives her shoulder a playful nudge in return.

“I’m only letting you get used to the controls,” Hana says. “I’m not this nice to _all_ casuals, you know.”

“My, I feel honored.” Angela rolls her eyes fondly, her lip curling in an amused half-smile, “I take it you don’t see me as a worthy adversary?”

“Fine, look, I’m jumping too. Try kicking me now.”

“And here I thought you played to win, Miss Number One.”

“Oh, I do,” Hana smirks and lowers Angela’s HP a little just to prove her point.

Angela is teasing her, Hana can tell. Angela is teasing her and that thought alone is somehow enough to send her heart into a frenzy. It’s endearing, really, and Hana figures it’s because it’s Angela; were it anyone else, it would most likely irk her, bruise her pride a bit, maybe. She knows it would, in fact. She tends to be impulsive, headstrong, easily ticked off and quick to react during a game, more so when they get too intense. It’s a nasty habit of hers, she’ll admit to that. And while she’s never liked giving other players the satisfaction of getting under her skin, she can rarely help it – it just comes with the territory, she thinks. But Angela is not just anyone and this… this is different.

 

“Say doctor, do you think I’d look good as a video game character?” Hana blurts out; just a random, silly thought that happens to cross her mind at times. Angela hums, pondering. _Is she seriously thinking about this?_

“Well, you are an attractive young woman—”

“You think I'm attractive?” Hana interrupts her a little too eagerly, almost dropping her controller in the process but Angela doesn’t look at her.

Angela keeps her eyes keenly focused on the big screen, with an expression hard to decipher, then finally, she clears her throat, gingerly, and says, “Objectively speaking, of course.”

“Of course,” Hana echoes, with a small smile of satisfaction, easing back into her seat. “Wait, did you just pull two 3-Hit Combos on me while I was not paying attention?!”

“Did I? My fingers must have slipped,” Angela says. And there’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth, amusement glinting in her eyes.

Hana smirks, “They sure did.” _Looks like even the goody-two-shoes doctor can play the devil sometimes. Duly noted._ “Guess it’s time to get serious!”

 

1-HIT-2HIT-3HIT-4HIT-5HIT-6HIT

**_K.O._ **

 

Hana puffs her chest proudly and makes a victory sign. Angela smiles and pinches her arm playfully.

Then an abrupt hush spreads over them as the lights and power suddenly go out, taking them by surprise.

The room turns pitch dark and it’s Hana who speaks up first, in an irritated hiss, “ _Aish_! Not this shit again?! C’mon!!”

_A temporary system lockdown right now?! You’ve got to be kidding me!_

“Does this happen often?” Angela inquires, in a much calmer tone.

Hana sighs. “It happens sometimes,” she says. “It’s because of all the tests that go underground. Building prototypes, MEKA units and whatnot… They consume a ridiculous amount of energy.” She waits a beat then adds, “Don’t worry, though. It won’t last long.”

A minute passes. Then another. And the power comes back on.

“See? Told you,” Hana smiles, reassuringly, and reluctantly sets her controller aside. “I guess it kind of killed the mood, huh?”

“Well.” Angela leans forward a tad to give Hana’s knee a consoling pat before getting up. “It might have been our cue to get back to work,” she says, slipping back into her lab coat. Hana follows suit and stands up to walk her to the door. “Though I have to admit, this unexpected break did turn out to be a good idea after all,” Angela confesses; her lips quirking upwards when she turns to look at Hana one more time, before she goes, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Hana grins. “See you tomorrow, doctor.”

 

* * *

 

**TUESDAY – November 8 th**

**9:12 AM**

 

Angela had just finished watching Hana’s live stream of a large-scale simulation – an offensive attack on an army of omnics gone rogue – meant to test several prototypes of new weapon models and at the same time serving as an initiation exam for two rookie MEKA pilots; allowing them a taste of what real-life battlefield looks and feels like, and what it means to be working alongside more experienced pilots under harsh conditions.

It went relatively smoothly, as far as Angela can tell. It ended on high spirits with the team currently conducting a short Q&A session, together with a couple of the higher-ups that have joined in. However, the one thing they seem to be reluctant to give details about concerns one of the rookie pilots’ apparent mishap which happened halfway through the simulation. They wave the issue off, charismatically, ending the session without explicitly addressing the nature and cause of said “minor injury”, as they called it. And the fact that they remain so secretive about it makes Angela have her doubts.

The audience, on the other hand, looks appeased.

 

Hana is in the middle of an autograph session now, with cheery pop music playing in the background, and Angela watches the screen attentively as a young man takes his turn in line and approaches Hana. He stammers the second he starts talking, laughing nervously and wiping a bead of sweat off of his forehead after handing Hana a wrapped present. She accepts it gratefully, all while shaking his hand and thanking him.

One by one, Hana patiently caters to the enthusiastic crowd of fans as though it might as well be the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

“ _Here you go. Love, D.Va!_ ” Hana winks at an older girl – _older_ , Angela assumes, based solely on appearances – after handing her back the signed poster and the girl blushes a bright red when Hana gets up and pulls her in just a little closer for a picture. Angela purses her lips, an awkward feeling of discomfort rising in her stomach.

She can’t help but notice the appreciative looks Hana is getting from both men and women alike and quite frankly, and Angela is firmly convinced they are not only and simply star-struck by Hana, no. They are clearly _ogling_ her. That is over-the-top inappropriate behavior.

_Why is such inappropriate behavior allowed on live television?_

Angela hardens her grip on the steaming cup of coffee between her hands and tries to maintain her composure.

She reckons, from an objective point of view, that it’s a perfectly normal reaction to want to _stare_. She said it so herself, after all. Hana is a _very_ attractive young woman. And it’s in the way she sits there and beams at them, smiling with her whole self. It's in the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she leans over the table or poses for a picture and, well, admittedly, Angela cannot fully blame those people. It’s impossible _not_ to stare.

And yet, still… the fact that they do, it continues to bother Angela. For reasons unknown.

 

“ _Let’s all keep doing our best!_ ” Hana does an air fist pump with her left hand and shouts, “ ** _Fighting!_** ”

Her energetic words resonate with the fired up audience.

It instantly reminds Angela of the sticky note Hana had left in her lab, stuck to the glass of the jellyfish aquarium. It has the same encouraging word on it – _Fighting!_ – next to a cute bunny drawing. Their little exchange from the day before drifts through Angela's mind and it doesn’t cease to bring a smile on her face. She vividly recalls Hana telling her, _“It’s a Korean thing. Basically, it’s like saying: fight on, do your best and don’t give up! Know what I mean?_ ” And Angela thinks that perhaps it can be considered the Korean, more passionate, “ _keep calm and carry on_ ”.

 

The autograph session seems to have ended at last, with Hana now being escorted by bodyguards towards the exit. She waves to the crowd with both hands and for the briefest of seconds she winces. Or at the very least Angela _thinks_ she does – the expression on Hana's face is gone so quickly that Angela might as well have only imagined it.  _Did she simply imagine it?_

Hana keeps on smiling as the camera zooms out on her, but Angela can’t quite rid herself of the nagging worry that begins to gnaw at her insides.

She slides her fingers across the tangible user interface incorporated into the transparent desk and asks, “Assistant Kang?”

The response is immediate, with the woman on the other end of the line enquiring, in a perfectly polite tone, “ _Is there anything I can do for you, Doctor Ziegler?_ ”

“Would you please tell Miss Song to come see me as soon as she gets back? I’ll be in the laboratory.”

“ _Yes, of course. Do you have any other requests, Doctor Ziegler?_ ”

“No, that would be all. Thank you.” Angela sits back in her chair, takes a sip of her coffee and waits.

She barely notices the coffee had long grown cold, not to mention that she is unable to properly concentrate on her work which is painfully obvious, seeing how she retyped the same sentence incorrectly for the third time now. She sighs, drumming her fingers against the desk. She has no idea what could be keeping Hana so long. Then again, Hana could be doing a hundred things of which Angela is not entitled to know about, of course. That is true. Still, Angela worries.

And as if that peculiar seed of worry weren’t enough on its own, her thoughts seem to insist on making the wait significantly more aggravating as they won’t stop gravitating around silly little scenarios of Hana spending time alone with one of her “star-struck” fans.

She sighs, again. _Of course no such thing is happening_. _Mein Gott, what is with all these nonsensical thoughts?_

 

She hears the mechanical sound at the door which signals a request for permission to enter and she grants it straight away.

Hana steps inside as soon as the door slides open. “Doctor? I was told you wanted to see me—“

“Hana.” Angela jolts out of her seat and rushes to the girl's side, carefully regarding her from head to toe for a beat or two. “Let me see your right hand,” she requests, genuine concern dripping from her tone. Hana hesitates at first but eventually obliges. She winces in pain when Angela takes her hand and it’s just as she’s suspected. “You have a dislocated finger,” Angela states it like an observation. “Take a seat.”

Hana does as she’s told, shifting in the chair as if she’s preparing herself for a scolding.

“Well, are you going to kiss it better or what?” Hana chirps, without a shred of embarrassment, but Angela shuts her attempt at being light-hearted with a serious reply, “You should’ve seeked medical care immediately.” She wrenches open a cabinet and takes out her _Caduceus Staff_ , putting it together, with Hana silently watching each and every one of her movements.

“I was just about to go to the infirmary, I swear,” Hana tries to tell her. “But I had to go through that Q&A session and—“

Angela gives her an incredulous look. “That is no excuse,” she says, sharply. She doesn’t mean to raise her voice but she does, just barely, and it comes out far more accusatory than she’d originally intended. She sighs, softly, and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Delaying a visit to the doctor for a finger dislocation can make final treatment more difficult and it can even lead to permanent disability,” she informs Hana in a clipped tone.

The girl lets out a sigh and goes quiet as Angela heals her hand up. 

 _Does this happen often?_  Angela wants to ask. Because she can’t help but wonder. Does Hana often conceal her pain and injuries in front of the cameras? Does she always delay paying the infirmary a visit to get treatment done? Fortunately, it’s within the scope of Angela’s ability to heal her injury in no time now but what happens when she won’t be here anymore? What happens then? 

 _Hana, you can’t treat it all like a game_ , Angela means to tell her but bites her lip instead.

 

A stilted silence passes between them until Hana speaks up. “I know what you’re thinking,” she says. “You think I’m being reckless or stubborn or whatever. And I am, but it’s more than that.” Hana pinches her lips together and looks sideways, fingers tapping repeatedly on the edge of her knees. “I’m different from the other MEKA pilots because I’m more than just that. And being all that I am, being a public figure, being D.Va means that there’s a certain image I have to maintain. When those people out there look my way, I am more than just me. I have to be strong for them and more than that, I have to be a distraction too.” Her breath catches for a moment, stuck on those last words like she’d like to rephrase her sentence, but she doesn’t.

Angela doesn’t press her. She sets the _Caduceus Staff_ aside and watches Hana flex her arm.

Hana sighs and slumps her shoulders. “I don’t know if you get what I’m trying to say, doctor, but it’s like this. If they ask me, 'Song-Hana, how are you feeling today? Is everything okay? Weren’t you scared?’ Am I scared?” Hana pauses for a moment, staring at her hand; she seems unable to decide whether to go on or not but she continues, “Of course I’m scared. I have no idea how things will turn out for us in the long run.”

Hana keeps her eyes downcast as she goes on, “But that’s not what they need to hear. Not from me, and not when they also live in fear, counting on me to give them hope and make things at least seem better and brighter than they really are, you know? So I clench my fists at my sides, and it hurts like hell, but I smile and I tell them, ‘It’s a piece of cake! I am number one, after all!’ So yeah, my smile may be a beautiful lie at times, and my words may one day turn into empty promises, who knows, everything is so uncertain…”

Her words fade away in a sordid silence for a moment, and she looks tired; the kind of tired that sleep can’t fix. “But people believe what they can see, don’t they? So I'll play the game and be whatever they need me to be.”

And it’s in moments like this, Angela notices, when Hana appears to be far ahead of her age, beyond her years, and Angela feels a great deal of sympathy for the way Hana always seems to be carrying her burdens so lightly in spite of everything. That thought comes with a pang of guilt too – a sudden necessity to atone – for underestimating the girl’s ability to recognize the gravity of things.

“Hana…” Angela catches herself murmur, at a loss of words.

“It’s… not that big of a deal, really. It’s just how things have to be in my life for now,” Hana says it like it’s a deeply ingrained fact; something she’s already grown used to and there’s no room for her to complain. Angela senses no regrets in Hana’s words but a firm acceptance, bravery at its core, and Angela can only regard that with tender admiration. “I’m sorry, doctor, I didn’t mean to worry or upset you,” Hana utters, apologetically, rubbing the heel of her hands into her eyes, with a look more vulnerable than Angela has ever seen her.

“You don’t have to apologize, Hana,” Angela tells her, resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I understand now.”  And she does. She does understand where Hana is coming from, her motive, the point she’s trying to make. And while Angela can’t say she fully approves of such recklessness and the consequences it can breed in time… she _is_ capable of keeping things into perspective, and she understands.

It's often that she asks herself, _must violence always be the solution?_ But in this world there is no absolute good or absolute evil, and Angela knows that much. Sometimes one has to slip in-between the black and white even when fighting for the right cause.

Sometimes compromises need to be made. Sometimes little white lies need to be told.

And truthfully, Angela might have over reacted. After all, she knew she could treat Hana’s injury in the blink of an eye. There was hardly any need for her to make such a big fuss out of it. But the incessant, bottled-up worry mixed with… _other concerns_ … got the worst out of her, apparently.

“However,” Angela trails off, letting her hand slide down from Hana’s shoulder to her forearm, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb on the inside of the girl’s wrist. “I would like for you to be more careful and think about yourself more. Just _you_ and your well-being.”

Hana keeps her gaze down, as though she can’t quite work up the nerve to look Angela in the eye just yet so Angela brings her hand to gently lift the girl’s chin up, trying to catch a glimpse of her face. “It would mean a lot to me if you could do that because I—” She falters for a second or two, stroking Hana’s chin with her thumb, without thinking twice on the gesture, and the moment Hana finally glances up at her, eyes glistening with unshed tears, waiting, expecting… a bloom of warmth ignites in Angela’s chest and it shakes her to the very core.

She breathes in and takes half a moment before she lets the rest of it out, “I care about you, Hana.”

The words roll off of her tongue and over her lips, earnest and heartfelt, resonant with meaning; lingering in the air between them, as though they could mean _more_ but for now, they ought to be _enough_.

 

Hana stays unusually quiet and Angela worries she might have overstepped some sort of boundary there.

“I bet I have a stupid look on my face right now, don’t I?” Hana sniffs in, wipes her eyes, and lets out an airy laugh – it’s unexpected but it relieves the tension. “I can’t promise you anything, doctor, but I’ll try,” she says, resolutely, lips revealing a crooked little smile that just pulls at Angela’s heartstrings at once. “Though I _can_ at the very least assure you that I’m usually way more careful and not that clumsy, but today… well, you could tell, couldn’t you?” Hana sighs and gives a little shrug. “Things didn’t go so well.” She slaps her thighs and stands up.

Angela can’t help but ask, “What happened exactly? During the simulation?”

Hana frowns. “I got distracted when one of the newbies freaked out halfway through and did something… something that we are strictly forbidden to do right now,” she tells Angela, hesitantly and cautious, almost in a whisper, “It’s got to do with the adrenaline serum, doctor. That’s why you were brought here, right?” Hana recounts the title of the project from the top of her head: C9H13NO3. “They want you to make it better, don’t they? More efficient and safer to use.”

Angela nods. There’s no need to deny it, confidential or not, she can be open and honest with Hana.

The project itself is kept under wraps in fear of causing unnecessary commotion among people, that’s what she’s been told. It does sound reasonable and she understands now why they avoided addressing that particular issue during the Q&A. Granted that Angela succeeds in polishing it, the serum can be an asset to the MEKA pilots. Quicker reflexes, heightened senses, pain reduction, an overall improved performance – a perfect last resort. But the way it is now… it’s too dangerous to use. Damaging to the health of the host, both physically and mentally.

“I really hope you can fix it, doctor,” Hana utters. “Because I’ve seen what happens when it doesn’t work. Not just today.”

Her words are tinged with an undertone of sadness and Angela feels hesitant in asking this, but she can’t quench the urge to _know_.

“Hana. Have you ever…?”

“No. And I don’t plan to,” Hana smirks and gives Angela a wink, “No hacks required!”  _And there it is._ That dauntless look in her eyes, that vital flame – the sizzling desire to strive and never give up – still burning as brightly as ever. It makes Angela’s heart swell up with affection.

“I was reminded of something just now,” Angela says, humming to herself.

Hana tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed and Angela catches the unspoken question on the girl’s face.

“Of the day I first saw you..." Angela smiles fondly, reminiscing. "It was the day your military induction ceremony was broadcasted live on TV.”

“You watched my induction ceremony?” Hana asks, with a hint of amusement, as though it’s a difficult thing to believe in.

“I did,” Angela tells her. “Well, it was a montage that included footage from said ceremony, to be more precise. And it was purely by chance, in fact, that the news headline had caught my eye then. _A new generation of heroes, a new hope_ , it said.” She closes her eyes for a moment, seeking the details of that memory. “You were wearing a military uniform, with a beret and your hair tied up in a bun. You were keeping an upright posture, and you looked…” _Pretty. And brave. Fierce. And young, still so young_ … Angela thinks and something inside of her twists and pulls painfully.

And yet… the way Hana stood so tall among veterans, above it all… “You looked ready.”

“Ready?” Hana snickers. “Ready for what?”

“For everything, I suppose,” Angela chuckles. “Ready to leave your mark on the world and prove your worth.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Hana quips and straightens up her posture in a military salute. “ _Dan-Gyeol!_ ”

“Ah, yes,” Angela smiles. “I remember that, too. What does it stand for?”

“Power of unity,” Hana grins and Angela finds it harder and harder, with each passing day, to take her eyes off this girl.

It’s not that Angela would like to completely _monopolize_ all of Hana’s free time but she certainly wouldn’t mind having more of the girl’s presence all to herself, were it possible…

Hana seems about to say something else when her holo-watch starts blinking, insistently. “Oh, oh. Call of duty,” she says. “I have to get going now.” She takes a few hesitant steps towards the door then turns back to face Angela once more, both of them lingering on the threshold, at a standstill. “Thanks for using your magic on me, doc.”

“I'll send you my consultation fee,” Angela jests, with a good-natured laughter under the surface of her voice, and Hana snorts, with a disbelieving shake of the head, out the door and then she’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone needs some visual aid to imagine what a no-bar double expert DDR challenge looks like, here you go: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWI9E4_clJc


	5. Unraveled

**THURSDAY – November 10 th**

**11:05 PM**

 

Hana slides her hands further down into the pockets of her jacket and hunches her shoulders against a gust of cold, late-autumn wind that sweeps past them, brisk against their cheeks. “Told you it’s chilly,” she giggles as she shuffles closer to bump Angela’s side playfully. In hindsight, a late night stroll might not have been _the_ best idea Hana could have come up with — not on this kind of weather anyway — but it still feels worth it.

“I just thought you had to see Busan at night at least once before you go,” she adds and her mouth slowly comes to a close, her brows twisting into a slight frown. Hana doesn’t like to think about the doctor having to leave in a week or so. Much less talk about it. It feels like time went by so fast, way too fast. The approaching farewell is knocking insistently on the door and there isn’t a single thing Hana can do about it. _Really, it sucks._

The doctor’s eyes go a little soft around the edges when she looks at Hana. She tugs at the collars of her black coat and smiles. “It would have been one missed opportunity if I didn’t, wouldn’t it?” She runs a hand through her hair with a soft chuckle, her breath coming out in foggy puffs.

“Yeah,” Hana mumbles as she buries her own smile in the soothing warmth of her scarf. _You don’t wanna miss out on this opportunity, trust me._ Those were Hana’s words earlier that day when she’d suggested they go out for a night stroll after Angela mentioned she’s been having some trouble sleeping lately. Hana kind of likes it when Angela remembers and holds onto what Hana tells her. It’s such a simple thing, really, but it makes her happy nonetheless. Everything about Angela makes her happy, if she’s being honest. And sometimes, it’s all in the details.

Like now; with the way the doctor’s eyes dance with silent laughter. Her cheeks are red, the tip of her nose too, and Hana wants to sear all these little details into her memory forever if possible. She wants to keep them all locked in a treasure box within her own mind, with Angela’s name on it. _That’s right_. There’s no point in mulling over it all coming to an end, no point in getting anxious about it when they are _still here,_ in the _now_.

 

They walk idly, side by side, in a comfortable silence, arms casually brushing. The streets are aglow with the pale, watery moonlight and the cosy yellow of streetlights. The night air is tinged with that moist scent of fresh rain that lingers in their nostrils for a few seconds and then is gone. It’s been raining all day. A typical November drizzle that comes and goes without much of a warning. There are no stars beckoning from above but a dark, desolated sky and a solitary half-moon peeking from beneath the misty clouds.

When they reach the Seomyeon 1st Avenue _,_ at last, the vivid neon colors of the many signs and billboards on every square centimeter of available space envelop the night into a lively atmosphere. Hana always thought of Busan as a city that truly comes alive at night. It’s like magic. A vibrant kaleidoscope of lights shining with exceptional clarity, bright against the darkening sky and in glistening sheens on the rain-drenched sidewalks.

Nameless strangers scattered along the street, going about their own personal affairs. Laughter echoing in the night, lovers whispering to each other, a group of friends blowing soap bubbles, salesmen trying to make a living... It’s almost as if people don’t want to let the city sleep; don’t want to leave it unguarded. This ever-changing city, so full of bottled-up grief and fear. It’s suffered through so much destruction over the years that it pains Hana to even think about that and what’s yet left to come and endure. But the city keeps itself in fluid motion in spite of it all.

Always alive and electric. Always rebuilding and moving forward. And of that, Hana is proud.

She catches the doctor smiling at her, eyes glittering with fascination and Hana can’t help but smile too. She’s glad that she took the chance to share this part of her world with Angela too.

They walk along at a leisurely pace, amid the jostling crowd and Hana wrinkles her nose at the inviting smell coming from the food stalls.

“Oh! You have to try this, doctor! C’mon!” She perks up, urgently tugging Angela along by the arm towards one of the stalls nearby where a man in a white apron is chopping vegetables with impeccable precision. He scrapes them off the chopping board into a searing hot pan together with the chicken meat and they make a satisfying sizzle when they make contact with the hot oil, releasing an aromatic steam in the open air that invades their nostrils and stirs up the appetite.

Hana shifts her weight from one foot to another, rubbing her hands together impatiently as they wait for their ordered share of _Dakkochi_ to be cooked on the spot. She keeps her head tucked down, trying to attract little attention, but the man recognizes her all the same the moment he lays eyes on her. He straightens up and takes his cap off. “It's D.Va! It really is you!” The loud, excited remark draws the attention of a few more passers-by as he hands Hana the _Dakkochi_ stick with a beaming smile. “Everything is on the house for you and your friend!”

“ _Kamsahamnida, Ajusshi._ ” Hana bows, keeping her voice as low as possible so as to not cause a scene.

Angela follows suit and expresses her gratitude with a polite bow when the man hands her own share of _Dakkochi_.

The man turns his attention back to Hana then, fumbling with his cap in his hands. “Would you… sign this?”

 _Well, there goes my incognito mode._ Hana heaves a quiet sigh and asks with a smile, “Do you have a marker pen?”

Soon enough a small crowd gathers up around them, asking for autographs and pictures and Hana tries her best to cater to her fans’ wishes as quickly as she can so as to not keep the doctor waiting for too long in the cold. Angela sticks close by her side, a little overwhelmed about all the sudden attention drawn upon them, it seems.  

Hana poses for a picture when, from the corner of her eye, she notices a man asking Angela something in Korean and Angela bows her head in response with a confused expression on her face. Hana feels her eye twitch in aggravation when she sees that same man reaching down for Angela’s hands to give them a vigorous shake. She chews on the inside of her lip, struggling against an impulse to slap his hands away.

 _What the hell does this Ajusshi think he’s doing here?_   She doesn’t quite catch what he’s saying at first, due to all the clatter of voices and dishes around them, but when she listens in she hears a, ‘you are very beautiful, _Noona_!’ and **_oh_** _!_ _That’s it!_ Hana lets a harsh breath out through her nose, her eyes turning steely. She doesn’t waste another second, she goes right ahead and pushes his hands away from Angela’s, slowly and with purpose. “Yeah, you know what,” she bites out, an underlying frustration in her tone. It comes out as a venomous snarl so she has to force a smile.

“We have to go now,” Hana tells him and waves the rest of her fans goodbye.

She grabs hold of Angela’s arm and squeezes it affectionately tight before pulling her away from there.

“What did he say to me?” Angela asks as Hana threads their way through and out of the crowded avenue.

Hana huffs and scowls, petulantly. “He said his breath stinks.”

Angela gives her a disbelieving chuckle, “He didn’t really say that, did he?”

Of course that’s not what he said. But Hana feels reluctant to let the doctor know of what that slimy man really said. The fact that he was gushing and complimenting Angela… Not that Hana can blame him. Angela _is_ beautiful. And it isn’t like Hana hasn’t noticed, she isn’t _blind_ , obviously.

But Angela doesn’t need some random man to tell her that she is beautiful now, does she? _Tsk._ Hana feels a prickle of annoyance gnawing at her stomach at the mere thought of it – like when someone is getting dangerously close to beating one of her high scores, just by pure luck. And Hana knows it won’t happen because she always gains the upper hand, no matter what, and yet, still, just the mere idea… that irritating _what if_ gets under her skin regardless. She clicks her tongue and tries to shove those obnoxious thoughts away.

“That’s what it sounded like to me,” Hana spits out eventually and a little too defensively.

Angela only nods, amusement still making her lips twitch and her eyes crinkle, as though she has secret access to Hana’s thoughts and can tell what’s really going on inside that messy mind of hers.

 

Hana’s stomach grumbles for food and it’s then that she notices that while Angela is still holding a _Dakkochi_ stick in her hand, Hana has none in hers. She stops in her tracks to slap her own forehead. “ _Aish_! I left mine back at the stall!”

Angela tilts her had, just a tad, holding her stick up with an inviting smile. “I am willing to share, if you’d like some?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hana grins and she takes a mouthful bite. The delicious chicken meat underneath the brown sugar crust makes her taste buds shiver in pure delight, a happy sigh passing over her lips.

Angela in turn takes a bite and hums contently, equally delighted. And they keep their unhurried pace on their way back to the headquarters.

"Did I get any sauce on my scarf?" Hana asks absently, licking the salt of her finger.

"No," Angela smiles and lifts a hand to carefully wipe something from the corner of Hana’s mouth with her thumb. The seconds tick by and Hana keeps her gaze locked on Angela's face as she waits with expectant eyes. For what? Hana isn't sure. But Angela seems to notice and quickly withdraws her hand. She shifts her gaze away and Hana can’t read the meaning behind it; behind that firm but puzzled look in the doctor's eyes... She looks miles away, like trying to make sense of some impossible nonsense.

“What are you thinking about?” Hana catches herself murmuring out loud before she can stop herself.

Angela stops and stares at her. She doesn’t say anything for what seems like a long, long time. It doesn’t look like she’s trying to find the right words she wants to say, but rather that she is immersed in a stream of thoughts; one without a beginning and without an end.

Hana thinks she might not answer after all but then Angela’s lips thin out and she smiles, “Nothing in particular.”

Hana doesn’t buy it. But she decides not to dwell on it any further so they continue to walk along in silence for a while.

The right side of the street is lined with shops, hotels, clubs, closed restaurants... and they become distantly aware of the muffled beats of music seeping through the sliding doors of a round-the-clock convenience store as they get closer and closer to passing it by.

“Wait here, doctor,” Hana says. “I’ll get us something to drink.” She goes inside the store and comes out holding two juice boxes. “Guess what!” She grins proudly as she hands one of the boxes to Angela. “It’s blueberry _Soju_ in disguise! Pretty cool, right?”

Hana pokes her box with the straw and Angela eyes hers curiously. “Alcohol?” She raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Hana says, taking a few confident sips. “Isn’t alcohol supposed to help out with the cold or whatever?”

Hana is pretty sure of it but Angela has this amused look in her eyes and Hana guesses that Angela is about to break some news to her. “So it’s not true, huh…” Hana bumbles, with a deflated expression and a slight pout. She’s mildly embarrassed and maybe just a little bit outraged that she’s been holding onto false information all this time and no one bothered to correct her. 

She doesn’t like to be wrong about things. _Talk about making a fool out of yourself…_

Angela nods, pressing her knuckles against her smiling lips as if to hold back an outburst of emotion. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” she says. And it’s said fondly, with a husky chuckle – this giddy cocktail of amusement and unbridled affection – that makes a tingle trickle down Hana’s spine. Her cheeks are flushed in a different shade of embarrassment now. And she decides to blame it all on the little spike of alcohol running slow and warm in her veins, and all the way down to her fingertips. She lifts her head to let the wind cool the blush from her cheeks but instead she gets a gust of wind whipping at her hair from behind and tousling it. _Of course,_ Hana hisses under her breath and rolls her eyes.

Angela’s melodic laughter echoes louder throughout the chilly breezes of the night and Hana’s heart does a little flip when Angela reaches out and pushes the strands of Hana’s hair over her shoulder and off her face. She shivers when Angela’s fingertips trail along the side of her neck, lingering there for just a moment before her hand retreats. “I apologize,” Angela says, rubbing her hands together. “My fingers must be cold.”

 _That’s not it. That’s **so** not it, _Hana means to tell her but blurts out something else instead, “Give me your hands.” And she doesn't hesitate in reaching down for Angela’s hands before she can shove them in the pockets of her coat. “I’ll warm them up for you.”

Hana brings their hands together and close to her lips, letting her breath come out in white tufts of hot exhales.

She counts up to ten in her mind, then asks, “How’s that?” She grins. “Better?”

“Better,” Angela says and it comes out like a stifled whimper.

Hana loosens the grip with the intent to let go but the doctor grabs a tighter hold of Hana’s right hand midway through.

“I…” Angela falters, staring at Hana’s hand between her own like she hasn’t quite figured out what she wants to do with it yet. “I will give your hand a light, therapeutic massage.” Angela nods like she’s just reached a satisfactory answer to stick with.

It sounds like an excuse if Hana’s ever heard one but it’s not like she minds. She gives a nod of approval in return and Angela starts to press her thumbs in the center of Hana’s palm a few times, in a gentle manner. “From what I have noticed, you are right-handed, correct?”

“Ambidextrous, actually,” Hana replies smugly, wiggling her socked toes inside her shoes. The doctor’s thumbs are rubbing small little circles of magic along the center of her hand and _damn, it feels good_.

Angela’s eyes glint with a hint of surprise and she gives Hana an impressed hum. “You shouldn’t crack your knuckles so much, though,” she points out, almost as an after-thought. Hana gasps in mock surprise. “How do you know about that?”

The doctor tilts her head knowingly and gives Hana’s pinkie a squeeze. “I’ve _seen_ you do it. Yesterday, for instance,” Angela recalls and Hana snickers, waving the comment off with a _yeah, yeah_.

 

Angela lets her fingers slide down the palm of Hana’s hand again, tracing the lines with her forefinger. Her fingertips are feather-light against Hana's skin, soft enough to tickle and Hana lets herself sink into the warmth of that touch for long seconds.

“Say, doctor,” she whispers, still focused on their hands and relishing in the feel of it. “Can you teach me something in German?”

Their eyes meet and the air between them shimmers with an unconditional and natural sort of intimacy that makes Hana’s heart suddenly skitter in her chest like a nervous animal.

“Hm. What would you like to know?” Angela asks.

“I don’t know, anything,” Hana says, so quietly she can barely hear herself speak. A million things speeding though her mind, a million things she’d like to ask, a million things she’d like to know. An inarticulate anxiety, a desire to just _know_ – everything there is to know about Angela. She wants to know... “ _Everything_.”

Angela chuckles, softly. “May I ask what brought this on?”

Hana heaves a small sigh in response. “It’s just that… I feel like I’ve been kind of greedy and made you go along with my whims a lot, you know? Like we’ve done a lot of what I enjoy doing and not so much of what _you_ like doing… and I’m starting to feel kind of bad about that.”

“There is no reason for you to feel bad about it, Hana,” Angela answers her with a tender smile that crinkles at her eyes. “I assure you that I’ve enjoyed myself every step of the way.” And there’s a note of such genuine, bone-deep fondness in her voice that it melts Hana’s heart. She feels as though a tight knot inside of her is finally loosening.

“That’s good to hear…” Hana utters. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m not interested in knowing more about you and what you like.” She stares at Angela for a long, silent moment while she tries to find the words to say. “But, I guess… I was a little too eager to find out how and where you’d fit into my world.” 

 _Why?_ Hana wonders about that more often than not.

 

“And?” Angela asks. “Did you find your answer?” She lowers their hands, brushing her thumbs across Hana’s knuckles, and Hana can barely suppress the shiver that darts up her spine.

Angela looks at her, smiling in an utterly charming way, eyes filled with fervent adoration and the warmth of it all overwhelms Hana. It holds her spellbound.

A gentle silence descends upon them and it’s as if time ceases to exist altogether. There are no clocks ticking in the world and Hana simply lives in the cerulean blue of Angela’s eyes. In these numbered seconds suspended in time, with no past and no future, no farewells, just a perfect _now._ A lifetime of happiness in every blink of an eye. It’s just them, surrounded by the lights and sounds of the city... the only thing grounding them to the real world, the warm pressure of their touching hands.

“Yeah,” Hana exhales shakily and bites her lip, realization flooding through her.

It’s like her brain just caught up on what her heart’s been trying to clue her in all along. And there’s no mistake about it, there’s no denying it.

“I—” Hana wets her lips nervously and tries not to look at Angela’s but fails miserably. She can practically hear the buzzing of the charged space between them now and she might be engaging in wishful thinking now but she is almost convinced that Angela leans in, even if just a little.

Hana's heart beats in anticipation, her stomach flutters and she thinks she can understand now what they mean about having butterflies.

 

_I think I’m in love with you, doctor._

 

The words melt unsaid on her tongue as a dazzling claw of lightning streaks down the length of the sky and a droplet of rain splashes onto her cheek. Hana uses her sleeve to wipe it away and looks up just in time to be hit in the face with another fat droplet of water.

She fights the urge to flip off the heavens above.  _That’s some shitty timing you got there, Mother Nature._

 

“It looks like it’ll start raining again,” Angela notes, with a hint of discontent in her tone.

“Yeah, we better hurry back,” Hana smiles and links their fingers together snugly. “You up for a sprint?”

Angela simply nods and glances down at their intertwined fingers, giving their joined hands a tiny squeeze.

It’s natural, Angela’s hand in hers.  _And this love_ , Hana thinks, it’ll carry her off somewhere. She doesn’t know where and she doesn’t know how far she should go but the current is too overpowering. She can only go with the flow. Because there’s no turning back, that’s for sure.

 

* * *

 

**FRIDAY – November 11 th**

**5:46 AM**

 

Angela awakens in her bed to the first balmy rays of morning sunlight creeping in through the windows’ vertical blinds.

She is tucked warmly under the covers and the soft bed sheets are pleasantly cool to the touch. She feels as though she’s wrung the fatigue from every cell of her body, drop by drop, and is now completely immersed in a state of pure tranquility; as though she’s afloat – drifting weightless above everything and anything – in a place far, far away... Such simple serenity and blissful detachment from the cruelties of reality.

She is drawn out of her reverie when she feels a warm breath ghosting over the nape of her neck. It sends a shiver all the way down her spine, more so when it dawns on her whom the presence belongs to _._

Hana is gently clinging to her back, her arm looped around Angela’s waist, and Angela can hear and _feel_ the soft and steady rhythm of the younger girl's breathing. She tries not to dwell too much on the pressure of Hana’s breasts pushing against her back, but even the mere thought of it sends an electric spike of shameless arousal through her body.

“Your heart’s beating crazy fast,” Hana murmurs. Her breath flutters against the shell of Angela’s ear and Angela _thinks_ she managed to catch her sharp inhale just in time before it became too painfully obvious.

“Curious,” Angela says, able to hear the crack in her own voice. Hana nuzzles up against her and Angela’s back stiffens. Their legs are tangled together under the covers, bare toes tickling at her calves, and Angela shifts a little, awkwardly, and clears her throat. “I wonder why that is.”

Hana giggles, propping herself on her elbow to gaze down at Angela. “You're the doctor here.” She lets her fingers slide down in a delicate stroke from Angela’s shoulder and low at her hip. “So, tell me, _doctor_. Why is your heart beating so fast?” She rasps – her words daring and husky from sleep – and Angela shudders at the pleasant vibration of Hana's voice. She can feel her hairs standing up, her heartbeat fiercely picking up in pace.

“You know what I think?” Hana asks as she untangles herself from beneath the covers. She climbs on top of Angela, hovering over her, almost pressing. “I think you have feelings for me,” Hana smiles as she eases in. “Don’t you, doctor?” Her face is so close now that Angela is certain she could count her eyelashes if she were to try. She can feel the weight of Hana against her breasts, her stomach, her thighs and she is burning all over; from the pulse in her wrists to the tips of her ears, distracted by Hana in a fundamental way that goes straight to her bones. 

 _Yes_ , Angela thinks. “No.” she murmurs, barely audible, certain she’s revealing a secret just by trying so hard to hide it. Her gaze travels down to Hana’s parted lips, unintentionally, staring at the sleep-soft bow of her mouth for a few seconds too long and Hana smirks.

“Liar,” she whispers, leaning closer, and Angela thinks Hana will go ahead and finally close the almost nonexistent distance between them but…

 

 

That’s when Angela's eyes snap open.

She is flushed and panting, feeling as though she’s drowning, unable to figure out which way is up or when she’ll be able to breathe again.

She presses a hand to her throat, closes her eyes, takes a breath to steady herself and tries to collect herself, allowing clarity to settle in.

She exhales on a shaky breath.  _It was just a dream,_ she tells herself, with a mixture of relief and sour regret. She lies there, on her back, unmoving, her eyes fixed on the dark ceiling. _It was just a dream…_ But her entire being is humming with desire.

Angela can feel that lingering warmth of their proximity on her skin as if it _had_ truly just happened. And so she closes her eyes again, this time keeping them tightly shut, uncomfortably aware of the rush of heat that splinters through her body.

 _This is so very incredibly inappropriate_. She immediately reprimands herself, no longer able to bear where her thoughts are taking her.

It will do her no good if she lets the shameful desire simmering at the edges of her consciousness overtake rational thought now…

 _Yes. Rational thinking._ That is precisely what she needs.

Because Angela realizes it now – that somewhere along the way, the once simple and casually inane touches between them have become _more_. More intimate, more meaningful... Angela is seeing it now, crystal clear.

Ever since she came to Busan, she’s spent her days with Hana and with thoughts of Hana grazing at every corner of her mind. And she has attributed her fascination with the younger girl to motherly affection, at first. But then came the evident attraction, then the lust, and yet, still, if it were just that… if it were purely physical, Angela could have handled it. It’s the fact that her feelings are sincere to the core…that’s what frightens her the most.

Perhaps, it was inevitable from the very start. And perhaps, a part of her has been aware of it all along, and unknowingly so, she opted for keeping her own feelings purely abstract and undefined. A subconscious defense mechanism of sorts? It could be. But it’s absolutely undeniable now.

There is _something_ happening between them. And Angela is sinking in the sudden awareness of it all.

She listens to soft pattering of the rain outside her windows; the only sound to intrude upon her frenzy of thoughts as her memory stirs and the events of the night before flash through her mind’s eye.

She remembers with impeccable clarity that one moment when she had irremediably lost herself in a rush of emotions.

She had wanted to kiss Hana then. Again and again and again. Angela had wanted to kiss her. And never let go of her hand.

She remembers getting back to her room afterwards and crawling under the covers, filled with a sense of Hana’s lingering presence all around her.

The smell of bubblegum and night air. The sound of Hana’s laughter ringing in her ears… like a pleasant lullaby slowly pulling her into slumber.

Angela cherishes each and every single detail; she has them all memorized. Hana’s smile. Hana’s eyes shining with excitement. Hana biting her lip in frustration. Hana, Hana, _Hana_.

With Hana, she is always swept away, somehow, somewhere – someplace she couldn’t fathom – a little world of their own.

And Angela wants… all these things that she shouldn’t want.

It’s difficult to think of all the reasons why they _shouldn’t_ when being together feels so right. But all they’ve known up to this point is the allure of a beginning and it frightens Angela to think of what’s to come if she allows it to go on. The enormity of it all brings her close to panic. She feels unbalanced, as though she’s treading on the tail of something dangerous and unknowable, crossing a line she shouldn’t allow herself to cross.

_She is only nineteen for goodness’ sake, Ziegler, get a hold of yourself._

There are too many reasons for why it’s not a good idea. Too many reasons for why these _feelings_ should remain unspoken and abstract, in the secure confinement of her own mind only. Because no matter how much Angela wants, _she can’t_ _._


	6. Tactical Error

**WEDNESDAY – November 16 th**

**5:45 PM**

 

Angela has been avoiding her.

Hana knows this because over the course of the past two days it’s become glaringly obvious that Angela seems to go out of her way to make sure she doesn’t have to be in the same room as Hana. Not alone, in any case.

There are times, of course, when it inevitably happens, only for Angela to look anywhere else _but_ at Hana.

It’s frustrating, to say the least. Especially when Hana would still catch Angela glance back at her, every once in a while, as if she were about to say something, only for her to bite her lip and lapse back into the same uncharacteristic silent treatment. And just like that, they go back to the start, trapped in that obnoxious routine.

What’s worse is that Hana can’t shake off the sinking feeling that it’s somehow her fault, her doing.

 

She stomps her way across the hall, running the same pestering questions through her mind _._ _Was is it something she said? Did she piss the doctor off without even noticing?_ _Where did she go wrong?_ She is at a loss. After all, Hana could’ve sworn – or at the very least she was under the impression – that they had been on the right track up to this point. She thought they were both heading in the same direction, seeking and hoping for the same outcome. But now all the progress they’ve made seems to be slowly going down the drain… because of this.

Not to mention that the longer they go without contact, without talking about what’s _obviously_ going on between them, the more inclined Hana is to think that she dreamt up the whole thing after pulling two all-nighters in a row. But was all this _tension_ between the two of them really only in her head? A product of her fervent imagination?

 _No fucking way_. _No._

In fact and in spite of it all, part of Hana is still willing to bet that Angela has also noticed the spark between them, but she chooses to tamp it down, for whatever reason. If Hana were to guess, she would say it’s because Angela’s sense of morality and professionalism is the kind that overrules impulses. So, logically speaking, Hana knows that she has to be the one who counteracts all that. She has to be the one to make the first decisive move.

But that’s the thing. She thought she had a clear opening to do exactly _that_ – to pave a smooth path and make her own intentions clear once and for all. Whether her advances would have been reciprocated or not, in the end, she tried to steel herself for the possibility of a flat out rejection. But she’s unprepared to deal with ‘the cold shoulder’.

How can she possibly do _anything_ at all when Angela is actively avoiding her?

It completely throws her off her game. It’s driving her crazy.

 

She stops in her tracks and heaves a long-drawn sigh. She needs a moment to order her racing thoughts. It’s like her mind suddenly went into overdrive or something; she can almost hear the gears constantly shifting in her mind. And the more she ponders about it all, the more she blames herself. It’s no use. It’s a vicious circle of what-ifs and whatnots. But she can’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, she should’ve seen this coming. Maybe she shouldn’t have ignored the small signs, the subtle hints. They did turn out to be a forewarning, after all.

Hana should’ve _known_ things were about to go astray, starting with that day and that game-changing moment.

 

* * *

**SUNDAY – November 13 th**

 

“A hat for McCree and with that, it seems we’ve crossed the last item on the list,” Angela said, holding onto the bag of souvenirs with a pleased smile on her face as they exited the crowded shop. “It went faster than I’ve anticipated, I have to say. I very much appreciate you helping me with this and accompanying me today, Hana.”

“It was fun,” Hana chimed, peering over her black sunglasses – not so much of a fashion choice as they were an attempted disguise – and hoped the doctor could see her subtle wink.

They walked leisurely along the busy downtown street, Hana’s gaze passing fleetingly over the faces of the many people walking by.

The minute she spotted the towering building of the MEKA headquarters a couple of blocks away, Hana knew that was her cue.

She took off her sunglasses and cleared her throat to grab Angela’s attention, “Hold on a sec, doctor.” She gently tugged Angela by the sleeve of her coat, pulling her aside. “I got you something,” Hana muttered, gingerly fishing the little present from the inside-pocket of her jacket. _Something to remember me by_ , she wanted to add, but it was suddenly too painful for her to say out loud. “I was at the mall the other day for a fan meeting and I saw this.” She gave a small nod at the silver pocket-watch resting in the palm of her hand, and smiled. “It made me think of you,” she told Angela. “I don’t know, I figured it’s something you’d like?”

She saw the doctor’s expression caught off guard by the gesture at first, at a loss for words, and Hana had smiled nervously while handing it over, rambling on about how she didn’t get the chance to wrap it.

“You’ve carried this around with you all day?” Angela asked, in a quiet voice.

Hana answered her with a nonchalant shrug as if saying ‘ _it’s no big deal_ ’ and something about the way Angela’s features relaxed and softened altogether let Hana know that she’d definitely made a good choice buying it.

“It’s beautiful,” Angela uttered, clutching the small gift in her hand and bringing it close to her chest like it was something infinitely precious. She tucked it carefully into her pocket, stroking its shape through the thick material of her coat, making it seem like she thought it might vanish into thin air if she wasn’t careful enough and she just had to make absolutely _sure_ that it’s safely there; like a treasure she sought to protect.

Hana thought it was quite possibly one of the cutest things she’s ever seen anyone do.

Angela looked up then, her face unbearably soft and overwhelmed by gratitude, and smiled.

“Thank you,” she said; so deeply ingrained with emotion that it made Hana’s heart skip a few beats. It’s in the way Angela would look at her sometimes, like she’s seeing Hana for the very first time after being apart for too long, like she can’t believe it – like there’s no else she’d rather see. There was a glisten in her sentimental blue eyes and sunlight delicately caught onto her pale eyelashes, and Hana did nothing but stare at her, like a fool, head over heels in love, wishing for time to stand still. If only.

Angela reached out, fumbling with a hand on Hana’s shoulder, still holding onto her bag with the other. Her chest was rising and falling quickly as if she was trying to resist the urge to pull Hana in for a hug. “I… I feel bad I didn’t get you anything in return,” she said, quietly, with a short-lived chuckle; her thumb drawing circles on Hana’s shoulder. And then came that other look. The slightly different look, the one that seemed like a puzzle Hana just couldn’t solve. And before she knew it, she sensed Angela pulling away. It was all too soon, and it was instinctive, really, the way Hana launched herself forward and into that space – filling that distance the doctor was trying to build with a tight embrace.

She slipped her arms under Angela’s coat and around the waist, squeezing tight.

“No, you got me something,” Hana said, hands sliding up Angela’s back and curling into the soft fabric of her knitted sweater, firmly holding her close. She snuggled further into that familiar warmth and sighed in contempt as she buried her face in the curve of Angela’s neck, breathing in – filling her lungs with the honeyed scent and that undefinable _something_ that’s so uniquely **_her_**. “You’ve been my present all along, don’t you know that, doctor?”

There was a sharp intake of breath and no token protest but a moment’s hesitation before Angela gave in and pulled Hana closer. Arm wrapped around her neck and nose tucked into her hair, Hana’s eyes fluttered shut when she felt Angela’s lips ghosting over her hairline. The doctor uttered Hana’s name as if she had no real intent on a sentence; as though Hana’s name alone had meaning within itself.

Hana felt the grip on her tightening, just barely, and she heard the tensile swallow going down Angela’s throat but she didn’t catch the foreign words that came after – words whispered with ardor and nervous uncertainty, in a careful hush, as though someone might overhear and they weren’t meant to. Hana felt them vibrate against her ear, resonating within every fiber of her being; devoid and full of meaning all the same.

Those words came from somewhere deep inside Angela’s chest; that much, Hana could tell.

She felt Angela brush a tender kiss to the crown of her head and then, just like that, it was gone – that intensity, that shiver in her fingers – it pulled back like the tide, spilling back into the ocean, sinking into the depths of it. And it left a definite _stillness_ hanging in the air that unbalanced Hana completely.

A shudder rippled through her body, setting off a tiny alarm bell, and she should have gone ahead and asked: _What does it mean?_

There was an anxious tremor in her heart and she wanted to ask Angela to stay. Because Overwatch could have everyone else – _anyone_ else – she only wanted Angela. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Hana wanted to be selfish like that and just ask... But she didn’t.

She didn’t ask what those words meant either.

She moved her ear to rest over Angela’s heart and she imagined it beating just as hard as her own. She kept her eyes shut and anchored herself to that sound alone. Across the noise of the entire city and the bustle of curious people all around, Hana lost herself to that unsteady heartbeat in her mind; it passed through you, blinking off the edges of her senses and kept going. The world slipped away for a little while and it was just them.

She had no idea what would happen the next day—much less any of the days after that—but she told herself that it was okay.

In those moments, she had Angela _there_ and Hana told herself that it was more than enough.

 

* * *

 

It’s not enough. And it’s definitely far from _okay_.

Hana couldn’t—no. She didn’t allow herself to grasp the full meaning of their exchange then but she knows now. Angela was stepping back, edging on the _goodbye_. The whole thing seems so surreal to Hana now that it would be easy to think of it as a dream. But it happened. If only she had told Angela right then and there, lay her feelings bare… would it have made any difference at all? Maybe it would’ve only made things worse…

She gives herself a mental shake, clearing those thoughts from her head, but she remains strangely nervous as she takes those few more steps to the conference room where she’s been told Angela is at the moment.

Hana kind of wishes there were some instruction manuals or step-by-step user guides or _something_ on how to deal with these type of complications because, well, she is practically a helpless noob at all of this. She’s admitted that to herself already and she has, more or less, with a remaining pinch of discontent, come to terms with the fact that she has no real experience in the ‘love field’ – save for a few fleeting crushes here and there that went exactly _nowhere_.

She bets Angela dated a whole lot more than her, which is infuriating and disheartening to even think about, but for Hana, it’s a first.

She’s never been in love before. She’s never said it out loud; she’s never had to.

She’s never looked at someone before and wondered what her life could be like ten or twenty years down the road with that one person still there, by her side. Imagining scenarios late at night and wondering what it would be like to keep seeing that one person every day, waking up next to them, seeing their face first thing in the morning, for the rest of her life. Never; until now. All of that mushy nonsense that comes with ‘being in love’ only ever seemed like an abstract concept to Hana. Something that could never possibly apply to her own life.

Well, now that it did happen, it’s spinning way beyond her control and frankly, Hana’s never felt more of an amateur.

 

She stops before the door and halts when she hears a muffled noise coming from inside. She thinks about knocking first, but she doesn’t. She wipes her clammy hands over her legs and gathers her courage. _It’s just like a new type of challenge,_ she tells herself. Overcoming and facing challenges head on is what she does best. It’s her forte. _Right._ So, _you got this, Song-Hana. Take the bull by the horns, or whatever._

_You can do this. You can fix this._

She takes a steadying breath before sliding the door open with the push of a button and letting herself in.

 

Angela spins her chair a tad to face the entrance the moment Hana steps inside, startled by the sudden appearance of another person in the room.

Her eyes widen when they land on Hana, and she stammers her name, “H-Hana?”

Hana leans against the door frame with the barest of smiles. “Expecting someone else?” She’s aiming for nonchalant but really, she’s more nervous than anything. More nervous than she thought she’d be. _How should she even go about this exactly?_ She has no foolproof plan, no nothing. 

_Guess she’ll have to wing it._

“No,” Angela says, her voice stuttering a little as she goes on, “I thought I would be alone, that is all.”

“Yeah, I heard you stayed behind after the project meeting and I figured I’d keep you company,” Hana explains, closing the door behind her, with a slight hint of hesitance to her moves. “Do you mind?

“Do as you wish,” Angela tells her, tapping a finger on her clipboard before turning her back on her. “I am almost finished here.” Her tone all of a sudden colder than what Hana’s grown used to. She imagined the doctor greeting her with a warm smile and welcoming despite the surprise. Like she used to, just days ago.

“Alright,” Hana replies, trying not to frown. “That’s fine by me.” She shrugs and leans her back against the wall, stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest. The doctor’s sudden change of attitude is extremely unsettling but Hana can’t let her composure to break now. She’s got to hold her ground and play it cool.

Angela doesn’t pay her any mind, however, and they remain quiet as the evening settles down around them.

 

Hana’s eyes roam absently around the room.

She can see, through the floor to ceiling windows, the sea stretching out towards the horizon in the gentle orange hue of the sunset.

The daylight is slowly sinking into the ocean and Hana feels unsteady – on uneven ground. Impossibly small and vulnerable.

At a disadvantage, somehow.

 

Angela, on the other hand, is staring intently at what looks like a spreadsheet on her electronic tablet.

In fact, she looks _excessively_ absorbed in that one particular task. Meaning, her thoughts must be someplace else, as far as Hana can tell. And she doesn’t claim to know everything about Angela, obviously, but Hana likes to think that she knows the important things and she knows the little things; the kind of details that can only ever be noticed if you’re looking when no one else is. And she definitely knows by now how Angela looks like when she’s truly focused.

Hana can tell the difference. After all, she was often by Angela’s side, sometimes while she was working, feeling content with just watching the doctor from the corner of her eye. And how many times were there when Hana would lose track of what she was supposed to be doing there – the notion of paying undivided attention to the gaming console in her hands long forgotten – simply because she would rather indulge herself in stealing glances at Angela? Too many to count; more than she cares to admit.

Hana recalls now, with a weak smile upon her lips, a vivid image of Angela with brows knitted together in concentration, sleeves rolled to her elbows and an ink stain on her jaw from where she’d itched her cheek while holding the marker – an endearing sight to behold. The memory of it flutters behind Hana’s eyelids in stark contrast to what she sees before her eyes. It’s almost as though Angela had stepped away for a moment and left someone else in her place. Someone whom Hana has a hard time recognizing: a stranger.

Hana watches quietly as Angela flips through a series of documents on her tablet, with concise moves and stiff shoulders, gripping the stylus pen in her hand a little too tightly before slowly putting it aside. Hana’s stomach cramps up with anxiety. Angela looks… uncomfortable.

And for the first time, Hana feels unwelcome, intrusive; like maybe she's really not wanted here, after all. She shifts weight from one leg to another, her mind filled to the brim with unspoken words that keep circling their way around, hanging heavily in the static air between them.

Angela taps a finger against the conference table and Hana’s impatience grows perfectly in sync with that beat.

With just the two of them there – alone, in the large room – every little sound seems to make a disturbing echo.

It’s unnerving, the tedious silence all around.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me these past few days,” Hana finally says, out loud, much to her own surprise. She gulps, suddenly feeling the need to keep her eyes downcast for a beat or two as she fiercely tries to summon her resolve. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she was ready for them, but what’s done is done. She’s wasted enough time moping. Now, it’s time to get serious.  _That’s right._ She’s no loser. She’s a go-getter.

She gets up the nerve to look up and sees that Angela has been staring at her.

The doctor frantically averts her gaze, trying her best not to look like a deer caught in the headlights. “Have I?” Angela clears her throat, awkwardly, “Why—why would you think that?” And with that, she brings her attention back to that _stupid_ clipboard, turning her back on Hana.

Hana huffs quietly, irritation prickling under her skin. “Are you mad at me or something?” She insists.

But Angela still doesn’t look at her as she replies, “Of course not.” And she steeps herself into a hush once more which only serves to agitate Hana even more.

“Fine!” Hana throws her hands up in the air in a gesture of utter exasperation. “What is it then?!” she asks, relentless, with an edge of impatience.

“I…“ Angela begins, but hesitates, rubbing at the back of her neck, like she’s trying to decide on what she’s going to say next. “I’ve been busier than usual,” she heaves a sigh; it’s shaky and her shoulders drop with the effort of it. “As you may know, my work on the project is completed now. I’m currently in the process of reviewing some final notes. The test runs are in two days and I have to make sure that everything falls perfectly into place.” Her voice wavers, just barely, and there’s the tiniest but very distinctive hint of a strain in her voice, like she’s holding back onto something.

Hana has never doubted Angela’s words before but what she’s saying now… there’s more to it than just being overly preoccupied with work. She can’t quite put her finger on it but she knows there’s more. She sees it in Angela’s too-quick gestures, the stiffness of her frame and the lack of direct eye contact.

So Hana sets her jaw in a stubborn line and makes a decision based purely on instinct. She crosses the short distance between them with an assertive stride and rests a hand on Angela’s shoulder, carefully turning her chair around to look her in the eye. The doctor’s expression reveals surprise for only a brief second before she goes rigid under Hana’s touch, watching her warily, as if she’s unsure of what to expect.

Hana can almost feel Angela vibrating with new tension, and then it dawns on her. _It clicks_.

Beyond shadow of doubt, Hana finally gets it.

 

_Holy shit._

 

“You’re nervous.” Hana says it like it’s a logical conclusion; like she’s just solved a long-drawn-out and difficult math problem.

Angela opens her mouth to deny it, but bites her bottom lip instead, eyes darting away.

“I think I am all finished here now.” Angela stands up with force, her chair screeching against the wooden floors. She attempts to gather her clipboard and tablet in a hurry but Hana places a hand in-between her and the table. The doctor goes completely still, her eyes slowly finding their way to Hana’s face. She turns to go but Hana blocks her path with purpose.

“I don’t think _we_ are finished here yet,” Hana smirks; in the same way she does when she has an ace up her sleeve in a game.

She edges closer, with a defying posture – the height difference doing nothing to intimidate her – and Angela steps back. They follow the same pattern of steps, with Hana practically walking them backwards until Angela stops in her tracks when her back is firmly pressed against the wall.

“Now, tell me, doctor,” Hana murmurs, her expression deliberately smug as she leans forward, “Am I… making you nervous?”

Angela straightens up at the sudden invasion of her personal space but she doesn’t make any attempt to get away. Hana can see the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickens. Angela's cheeks are flushed, her pupils dilated, her lips parted, and Hana suddenly finds herself awfully tongue-tied as well; her bravado starting to wear off as she realizes the position they are in. Their sudden nearness to each other.

She’s close enough that she can smell Angela’s perfume – just a hint, but more than enough. It’s subtle and intoxicating.

A sudden throb of _want_ pulses in Hana, low and warm, and she almost loses her train of thought.

 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” she whispers, against her better judgment.

Angela gulps, visibly, and Hana knows that she’s going somewhere she probably shouldn’t but she can’t think about stepping back. She can hardly think about anything at all.

It’s like she’s in a trance that she can’t pull herself out of.

“Hana,” Angela utters, in a breathless rush; her voice softer now—almost tender, imploring. A warning? A plea? Hana isn’t sure.

But they are both fully aware that they’ve been toeing this _line_ , hovering over it, for what feels like an eternity now. They've been caught in this on-going game of inching forward and then retreating before anything can get too real. But Hana is more than ready to take the plunge. Even if it feels like she’s about to crash.

She sets a challenge in the tilt of her jaw, a glimpse of ego seeking that much needed confirmation. _Do you want me to?_ She’s searching for the answer in Angela’s blistering blue eyes, amid the awful mixture of emotions. An expectation is there for sure, but it’s mixed in with so many other overlapping emotions – excitement, hesitation, resignation, worry? An ardent stir of desire? The thought alone has Hana’s heart beating faster.

She can see the tightness of Angela’s shoulders as if she’s trying to hold herself together with sheer will, restraining herself with palpable effort. She’s breathing heavily, a flush of arousal visible from her cheeks and down her neck but the admission remains unsaid; locked inside her chest as though setting it free would shatter that last drop of resolve she has and she just can’t bring herself to allow that to happen.

And yet, it’s transparent to see. Hana can hear it in the way Angela whispers her name, she can see it lingering in her eyes, in the way Angela looks at her… It’s in the way she quietly tries to fight it but still _surrenders_.

Angela wants this every bit as much as Hana does.

The only thing holding Hana back now — what makes her hesitate, still — is the doubt and self-loathing lurking like dark passengers in Angela's eyes.

Hana lets her hands slide down from Angela’s shoulders to her forearms; her fingers pressing into Angela’s arms, in a reassuring squeeze. She wants to sooth away Angela's fear. “We're not doing anything wrong, you know, this…” Hana trails off, chewing on her bottom lip; the words stuck in her throat, caught between the erratic beats of her pulse as she struggles to get them out. “This isn’t wrong.”

Angela stares at her, eyes flitting between her mouth and her eyes, and she hesitates too, a second too long – too long not to mean something – before replying, “Isn’t it?” Her voice is a whisper, cracking and frail, brittle at the edges.

Their eyes meet and they hold each other’s gaze for a heartbeat or two – silent, unsure.

There’s barely any space between them and Hana can feel her own body burning up.

She swallows and drops her gaze to Angela’s mouth; eyes lingering on her lips, millimeters away from her own. She eases in and Angela stays perfectly still for her. They linger for a moment, little puffs of labored breaths between them…

Hana can smell the coffee on Angela’s breath, see every tiny detail of her face…

 

“Then tell me to stop,” she whispers against Angela’s mouth and the tone in her voice makes Angela shiver. It’s not a command; far from it.

It’s stupid, unconditional courtesy that Hana offers. It’s her giving Angela a final choice – one last chance to back away. Because in spite of the confidence of her approach, Hana doesn’t want to rush into something that could risk ruining everything they’ve built so far. Because despite all the selfish urges seething within her, Hana wants for this to happen on equal grounds, with mutual consent. She wants for the decision to be made because Angela feels the same and at ease about it, not because Hana is pressuring her into something more.

_That’s why…_

 

“If you tell me to stop, I will,” Hana whispers and closes her eyes to afford Angela the illusion of privacy to make the decision.

The hum of anticipation settles in her stomach, the ache of wanting deepening by the second.

Her heart pounds violently against her rib cage, so hard it almost hurts.

She slowly opens her eyes in time to see Angela mouth the start of a sentence – the right words, her first instinct – before biting them back to say something else instead. “Hana, we shouldn’t…” Angela swallows around the words, but they come out anyway, “We shouldn’t do this.” Her voice is small, and strained, like the words don’t want to form any actual meaning, but Hana still hears that tiny hint of firmness in her tone when she says, “We need to stop.”

And Hana feels the shift in temperature like the sun just went out.

Her hands fall limply at her sides, fingers going numb. She might as well have been punched in the heart because she feels as though the air has been sucked out of her lungs. She pulls back, struggling to swallow down her disappointment and just _breathe_.

“Perhaps… we could use some time apart,” Angela goes on and Hana watches her in a daze. The doctor bites down on her lip as she considers her next words. “To clear our heads and… think about things more rationally…” Her voice quivers and she’s looking at Hana with this sorrowful expression on her face. “I think it will do us both some good.”

Hana breathes out, taking another step back, clenching her fists as if that would help with keeping herself together.

She’s trying to calm down, but it’s like she’s forgotten how to breathe for the moment, how to exist.

She tries to frame a response, any response, but the fizzy bubble of tears in her throat make it near impossible. 

_What else is there left to say anyway?_

 

Hana turns on her heel to leave but stops when Angela calls out to her, “Hana, wait.”

There’s a sense of urgency in the doctor’s tone and Hana tries hard to ignore the hot stinging behind her eyes. She can hear Angela take a step towards her, then another. “It’s not that I— you understand, don’t you?” Her words tangle, in a rush to leave her tongue. “Why we shouldn’t—why we need time apart?” Angela steps close enough to lay a hand on Hana’s shoulder, but Hana shakes her off.

She dabs at the tears collecting in the corner of her eyes before she turns to face Angela. “What do you want me to say, doctor?” Hana asks and she raises her voice a little louder than intended. For a second she worries someone might overhear. “I just…” She falters, forcing her temper back down with considerable effort. Because having someone intrude on their discussion is the last thing they need right now.

Of course Hana understands. Of course she fucking _gets_ it. There’s so much frustration filtering through her right now, but it's not clouding her judgement. This whole situation is complicated for reasons Hana does understand but just doesn’t agree with. They are **_years_** apart, Hana _knows_ that. But she’s never felt it as a dividing distance between them until now. To her, those numbers were just that: some numbers. And some crazy, hopeful part of her wished Angela would think the same and just reach out, pull her close and tell her that they’ll figure it all out. Together.

There’s a beat of silence and Hana heaves a defeated sigh.

“I don’t get you,” she says. “It’s obvious that you want this just as much as I do and yet—”

“It’s not that simple,” Angela tells her, cutting her off softly but unyielding. “What I _want_ and what I should be doing are two very different things…” Her voice trails off with uncertainty. Angela takes a slow breath as she finds her words and Hana watches the play of emotion over her face; a look of stark vulnerability and distress apparent in her demeanor. “I’m at an age when I have to know that difference and act on reason, not impulses… or desire,” Angela says. “But you're _young_ , Hana. And with youth comes recklessness and naivety and a constant need for change. Everything can be a turning point at your age. You have a whole life ahead of you.”

“You’re afraid I’ll change my mind in a year or two or something? Is that it?”

“You’re too _young_ ,” Angela repeats those words as though she’s trying to remind herself of that first and foremost, and the anguish in her voice makes Hana’s heart ache. “And at _my age_ , I… should know better.”

Hana clicks her tongue in both disapproval and indignation. “Yes, I’m _young_! But does age really have that much to do with being old enough to know some things? Last time I checked I was a young _adult_. And I’m definitely someone who knows all too well by now that every choice I make breeds consequences!” Hana takes a step closer. “But I’m willing to deal with anything because I think you’re—I think it’s worth it,” she says, her breath catching in her throat. “Don’t you?”

Angela’s mouth tightens at the corners and seconds of suspense pass by as Hana waits for an answer that doesn’t come as Angela merely stands there, pleading with her eyes for Hana to understand and accept her reasoning.  _But how can she? It doesn’t make sense to her._

Hana shakes her head in frustration, her blood boiling in her veins. “This is such bullshit,” she tells Angela bluntly. “It’s only complicated when you’re looking for excuses.” She lets out a hollow laughter, running fingers through her hair. “Time apart? You gotta be kidding me. Because guess what, doctor. You’re leaving,” Hana says, her throat painfully tight; so thick with emotion that she has to pause before she can go on. She blinks hard, long blinks, willing the tears to stop. “And after you leave… time apart is all we’ll have, anyway.”

She sighs and cuts herself off from saying anything else, not wanting to sound desperate. She humiliated herself enough for one day. She doesn’t want to reduce herself to pleading with someone to take a goddamn chance on her. If space and time is what Angela needs right now, then so be it. Hana will respect her decision. She aims for the exit and Angela doesn’t try to stop her this time.

 

The door slides shut behind her without much of a sound and she leans against the wall, taking slow, calming breaths.

She closes her eyes and feels the hot prickle of tears behind her eyes.

_Goddammit. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. This is the opposite of how it was supposed to go._

She can see Angela in her mind’s eye, left all alone behind to pick up the pieces, and a sense of guilt unfurls in her chest…

But Hana doesn’t turn back. If Angela decides she wants this, then she’ll have to come and get it.


	7. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

**FRIDAY – November 18 th**

**8:21 AM**

 

“Are you… alright?” Angela asks.

Hana hesitates for a second, her eyes flicking to Angela’s briefly before her gaze falls to her feet and then back to the vending machine in front of her. She looks small in a way that has nothing to do with size; it’s in the way her tense shoulders slump, the sad furrow between her brows. Her fingers hover absently over the numbers and she looks like she’s going through dozens of words in her mind before she finally answers, “Yeah, I’m fine.” She flexes her fingers before selecting her drink and the water bottle drops with a clink. “Didn’t you guys just finish checking up on us?” Hana asks as she bends down to get her drink. A strand of hair falls over one side of her face when she stands back up and Angela resists the urge to reach out and gently tuck it back behind her ear. Hana does it herself. “I’m good to go,” she says. And for half a second there, she looks like she wants to say something more—the intent shows in her eyes and the very slight intake of breath—but instead, she cracks her knuckles and pulls her headset back on.

Angela’s eyes drop to the clipboard in her hands, her fingertips smoothing wistfully over Hana’s name. She did go over Hana’s medical file just moments ago. The prognosis is good, all her vital signs positive. All pilots are ready to go, but that’s not what Angela meant.

She only wanted to make absolutely sure that Hana was alright.

The girl carries herself in the same way she’s always done; sticking to her duties, training, streaming video games, wooing the nation with her charm. But Angela can see the space between each and every one of her words, where the pain lingers, where the hurt shows… no one else sees it but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

Angela bites down hard on her tongue so she doesn’t apologize. Because what she wants to apologize for isn’t something she _should_ apologize for. _I’m sorry it has come to this,_ Angela wants to say. But it seems utterly selfish of her to even think about bringing it up. She finds that she can’t even meet Hana’s eyes so she stares down at her feet instead. And there’s a silence that aches between them.

Angela knows they need to move on now or this moment is going to stagnate between the two of them, like many before.

Hana steps away at last, and Angela hovers uncertainly, then stares after her.

She sees Hana stop right before the doors of the simulation room to throw Angela a look over her shoulder. Angela does a timid air fist pump. “Fighting?” She knows Hana can understand the simple gesture despite Angela’s quiet tone, despite the distance. Hana does, and she acknowledges it with a small nod. Her lips have the slightest curve of a smile; it’s barely there, but it's so genuine that it makes Angela ache.

“Fighting,” Hana echoes, before the doors slide shut behind her. 

 

* * *

 

Angela makes her way back to the control center where a sense of agitation sizzles and ripples through the air. Examiners going back and forth, reviewing the results of the preliminary test runs, people shoving through papers, pitching ideas, taking notes, typing diligently at their computers. Angela returns quietly to her seat. She is thankful for all the noise around her, for once.

It’s been exactly two days since her confrontation with Hana in the conference room.

Two days passed by in a blur, punctuated with only the barest of polite exchanges and passing looks between them, with no real attempt at communication. Hana is taking her advice, it seems. She hasn’t chased Angela, she doesn’t insist. She is giving Angela space and room to think, but as it turns out, it’s precisely what Angela doesn’t need, after all. Distancing herself from Hana can’t keep Angela from thinking about her. And as much as she deems it necessary to concentrate on something – _anything else –_ as much as she _tries_ , her thoughts helplessly gravitate towards Hana at all times. Every little detail of the world suddenly reminds her of Hana.

It’s the quiet moments, especially, that are the hardest to endure. When she’s left all alone in the solitude of her own mind to go over possibilities and lining up risk factors again, and again, and again. She would think of Hana, head rested comfortably in Angela’s lap, her smile dopey and content. She would think of Hana and the chiming sound of her laughter.

She thinks of Hana, and Angela’s mind decides to remind her of all the reasons she shouldn’t.

Angela feels her resolve piled up like boulders upon her shoulders, and the principles of her decision as though they are hanging by the edge of a cliff. And sometimes it only takes a ticking moment of looking Hana in the eyes for Angela to slip into the depths of self-doubt and second-guess herself. But she can’t allow that to happen. _She can’t_.

So she walks around with that apology in her chest and that unspoken ‘ _I’m sorry’_ on her tongue and she keeps insisting on each justification:

_It's for the best. It’s what needs to be done. It’s the right choice._

Hana deserves someone who can make her innocent promises of forever, and Angela can’t be that someone because well, she’s past the age of idealism. She is someone who realizes that forever is an awfully long time and a hard promise to keep and at nineteen, Hana deserves someone with whom she can experience the thrill of firsts. Someone who can offer her the same freshness in return. No age gaps, no distance, no such unnecessary complications. Someone younger.

Of course, the aching truth sits in Angela’s chest like an iceberg; only the tip poking dangerously out of the water while the rest lingers below the surface, hidden away from prying eyes —an illusion of epic proportions. The truth is that Angela is afraid. Of so many things, and then some. Because Hana makes her want to do foolish, reckless things like choosing one girl over anything, over everything, over anyone, over the entire world...

 

Angela brings the tips of her fingers to her lips, absently, her thoughts drifting back to their last conversation. It doesn’t take long for the murmur of voices swirling around her to blend in with the background, and so it happens—in the same way it always does—her mind starts wandering, indulging itself in fantasy... A moment of weakness that spirals out of her control as she starts imagining silly little scenarios like what it would be like to kiss Hana… What it would have been like if she allowed it to happen then… It’s almost as if the lingering warmth of their proximity is imprinted on her skin, and she blushes. She feels as though the very memory of it is painted on her face for everyone to see and she makes a spectacle out of herself with no one really watching. She tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, self-consciously.

She should shake it all off… _she should, she should, she should…_

 

She sighs and takes a sip of her cold coffee.

 

She chances a glance at one of the large monitors displaying the current activity in the simulation room and she sees some of the pilots sitting on the benches, rubbing at sore muscles, some of them still stretching.

Then, as expected, Angela’s gaze finds its way to where Hana is. It’s like a powerful magnetic pull.

Hana is pulling off her pair of gloves in a way that shouldn’t make Angela shiver, but it does all the same. And yet it’s nothing compared to what comes next. The way Hana unzips the top part of her plugsuit, slowly peeling it off her arms and skin, letting it hang loose around her waist, leaving her in only a tank top. A  _very tight_   tank top.  _Mein Gott! What is she doing?! She is practically undressing right there with all those people around her!_ Angela breathes in and out, through a spike of silly panic, before she cools off.

 

She watches as Hana combs a hand through her hair, tying it up into a messy ponytail. She bends down to pick up her bottle of water and leans against the cool metal of her mech. Most of the liquid is downed in one long swallow as she dabs at the faint sheen of sweat along her forehead with a towel. Angela gulps. It’s all very… sensual.  _Hana couldn’t possibly be doing all **this** on purpose, could she? _ No, of course not. Hana doesn’t shy away from the eye of a public. It’s something she’s used to. Besides, there is nothing out of the ordinary or indecent about this. It’s completely normal.

Hana tosses the towel and the empty bottle aside and she yawns, stretching her arms up in the air. Her top lifts with the movement, the hem coming untucked and exposing a small strip of skin above the waist, and Angela bites back something that’s embarrassingly similar to a whimper. She tells herself is most definitely not a whimper as her eyes trace hungrily over the defined shape of Hana’s pale collar bones. Angela flushes when she notices how one of the thin straps of Hana’s top looks like it’s about to be falling over one shoulder, her gaze involuntarily slipping down to Hana’s breasts and—Angela brings her eyes back up with a jolt. She shakes her head a little to make it stop.

Someone should tell Hana to cover up right now before she catches a cold or— “Doctor Ziegler?”

The words jolt Angela away and she almost drops the plastic coffee cup she’s been holding in her hands, juggling it awkwardly for a few seconds, the lid almost falling off – thank god it’s almost empty – as she turns to blink at the woman next to her in surprise. It must have been quite the comical sight, judging by the way Assistant Kang is trying to suppress the start of a smile. Angela would give her an A for effort, but she has that little twitch in her cheek that gives her away. She’ll laugh plenty about this later, surely.

Angela clears her throat, “Yes?” It comes out an octave too high, and she can still _feel_ that flush creeping down her neck. It's still there, and she’s embarrassed for blushing because people might take it the wrong way like she has been caught in the act, which is not the case, because Angela wasn’t doing anything improper— well, never mind. To avoid further embarrassment, she clears her throat once more, rapidly collecting her thoughts.

Assistant Kang tells her, “You have a pending video call from Miss Lena Oxton. Do you wish to take it?”

“Yes, I will. Thank you,” Angela says, more than thankful for the much needed distraction. The woman bows politely and returns to her seat.

 

Several seconds later, Angela receives the redirected call to the holographic screen above her desk and Lena’s face is right there, before her eyes.

“ _Cheers, love!_ _Whatcha up to?”_ Lena is grinning from ear to ear; her perky voice ringing in Angela’s ears.

 _Making a fool out of myself, or so it seems._ Angela heaves out a subtle sigh under her breath and musters up a smile by the time she gives Lena an answer. “Technically, I am wrapping up my job here,” she says.

There’s the familiar hiss of a coffee machine somewhere behind Lena and Angela hears someone shout something, from too far away to be heard clearly but she immediately suspects it might be Reinhardt. A deep sense of shame comes crashing over Angela like an unrelenting wave as she thinks back to when she’d told Reinhardt that she doesn’t approve of him dragging Brigitte with him on his adventures. _She’s too young_ , Angela had said then. _The girl has made her choice,_ he’d told her. But what would he say to Angela now? When she did something far worse by falling in love with a nineteen year old…

Angela sighs, “So, tell me. How are things holding up in my absence?”

“ _We’re fine,_ _mum_ ,” Lena laughs and Angela gives her the stink eye. Lena holds her hands up in mock surrender.

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that,” Angela reprimands her and straightens up in her seat. The gesture adds a tinge of defensiveness to her tone. She knows it’s said in jest but that word rings differently in her mind now. It leaves a bitter aftertaste on her tongue and it cuts like the edge of a blade, painfully deep in her dignity. It just seems especially inappropriate now that she’s attracted to a girl almost half her age.

So very inappropriate. Angela swallows hard at the thought and then, instantly, almost instinctively, her eyes go back to the screens to find Hana once more, who is now surrounded by other pilots as she flicks through her phone. She seems to be searching for something important and despite herself, Angela wonders what it might be. A pang of curiosity that doesn’t quite fit in the equation anymore. How silly of her, after all, and selfish really, that in spite of everything, Angela still wants to be in the center of Hana’s attention. Unrealistic, too. Hana must have a million things and a hundred other people on her mind. And it shouldn’t be Angela’s place to ask or know what Hana is up to anymore.

They’ve reached a crossroad and they are heading in different directions. That’s how it should be.

“I rest assured that Winston is perfectly capable of maintaining order around the base, isn’t he?” Angela tells Lena. An attempt to resolutely drift her attention away from Hana, which proves to be very much like trying to ignore the sun on a bright summer day. The girl’s presence is simply too much to ignore for Angela and one way or another, she is back at staring. She notices the boy on Hana’s right settle his arm around her shoulders and Angela tries to ignore the stabbing feeling in her chest, that possessive streak that rears its ugly head.

Lena wheezes a hearty laugh, prattling on about something McCree has done, her words gushing out in a wave of uninhibited emotion, and Angela hasn’t heard a thing she’s said. She’s busy feeling nothing but an uncontrollable sense of resentment against that unknown boy as she catches sight of him leaning into Hana’s personal space. _Good grief, does he have no manners at all?_

Of course, it isn’t Angela’s business to be jealous in the first place, she knows, and she almost puts her elbow off the desk while trying to appear like she isn’t remotely affected by all of this. “ _Angela?_ ” Lena asks and Angela snaps her focus back to her. Lena’s brows are scrunched in obvious confusion. She’s probably said Angela’s name more than once now. “ _Are you alright, love? You seem way out of it of sorts._ ”

Angela fights the urge to clear her throat. Such an admission of weakness, a sign of discomfort, would do little to help her now. So, she tries to keep her voice flat, her tone even and her face neutral. “Yes,” she says, and her voice comes out unevenly despite her best efforts. “I am alright,” she tries again.

Her tardy and halfhearted reply sounds rehearsed and it doesn’t fail to draw a snort of disbelief out of Lena. “ _That didn’t sound very convincing.”_

But despite the hint of amusement in her tone, Lena seems genuinely concerned, and Angela can’t help a bit of a fond smile. Truth be told, she _has_ missed talking to Lena. It occurs to her now, in fact, that she has barely thought of Overwatch during her stay in Busan, let alone about having to go back, and she feels a sense of guilt seeping in. “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Angela tells her.

Lena smiles sympathetically. “ _Sounds to me like you’re having the blues,_ ” she notes, fidgeting a little, scratching at the back of her head, like she’s unsure of what she should say or do next, but she carries on regardless, “ _I’m complete rubbish at giving advice but you do know you can talk to me if there’s anything bothering you, yeah?_ ”

Angela shuffles uncomfortably in her chair and takes a sip of her coffee to soothe her dry throat. _Should she?_ It may not be such a terrible idea to hear out a third party’s opinion on the matter. Angela draws a breath and rests her hands on her knees. Fortunately, she doesn’t have to worry about anyone eavesdropping, with all the busy activity around her, but she still feels the need to lower her voice a little. “Yes, well, hypothetically speaking, if…” she trails off as she ponders over how to best phrase it without giving too much away. “If there was a delicate choice you had to make… and you _know_ what you _should_ be doing but it’s not… well, it’s not what you _want_ to do...” She pauses for a second or two before she finally asks, “What would you choose to do then?”

She was most definitely cryptic enough judging by the way Lena frowns in confusion, wrinkling her nose as she tries to process the information she’s been given and trying to puzzle it out. “ _Mhm, that’s a tough one, isn’t it?_ ” She hums in thought, tapping a finger to her chin. “ _I reckon you should—”_

“It's not about me. We’re speaking _hypothetically_ here,” Angela emphasizes, tapping a finger against her knee – a nervous motor tic.

Lena arches a brow knowingly and grins. “ _Yeah, yeah,_ **_hypothetically speaking_** ,” she repeats, making air quotes with her fingers as she steers the conversation back on track, “ _If someone— well if **I** had a choice like that then I'd choose whatever it is that leaves me with the least of regrets or none at all; get what I mean? Something like that, like, how did that old saying go, again? Better regret things you’ve done than ones you haven’t even tried? Isn’t that right?_ ” Lena beams at her like she deserves a gold star and a pat on the head, if only for the effort.

Angela simply nods. “Perhaps, you might have a point,” she says, considering Lena’s not so helpful piece of “advice”.

 

“ _Oh!_ _I think I’ve got it!_ ” Lena blurts out all of a sudden and Angela breathes through a spike of panic that Lena did indeed, somehow, figure the entire situation out, however unlikely. But then Angela sees the misplaced comprehension in the glow of Lena’s eyes and she knows that whatever Lena is about to say next it’s far from the actual truth. _“Feeling homesick over there, aren’t cha, love?” – Lovesick_ is more like it, Angela already corrects that statement in her mind, but then Lena grins and Angela doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she’s got it all wrong, and that— _“It’s a good thing you’re coming back in a few days, isn’t it? We all miss you!_ ”

“Yes,” Angela utters, with a wry smile that feels like a blatant lie on her lips. “I will see you all in a few days.”

Lena bids her a cheerful goodbye and signs off.

 

Angela doesn’t have enough time to put some order in her thoughts before the doors of the control room slide open and Choi Jin-Hyuk, the CEO, strides in. He’s wearing a sharp, well-tailored suit, not a wrinkle in sight, as usual.

The room quiets down immediately, people turning to watch the man with expectant eyes. He clenches his hands together behind his back, jaw set, as he glances across the room with a determined look in his steely eyes. “Let’s do this, people!” he says, loudly enough for all to hear, and he taps his foot impatiently against the floor to coax them all into mobilizing faster.

Angela notices the pilots are already in position, waiting for further instructions, as a woman’s voice cuts in through the speakers:

“ _All pilots report for immediate dispatch._ ”

 

The system starts up seconds later, the room illuminated by the blue tint from all the bright interfaces. At the swipe of a finger from an IT analyst, the many holographic screens in front of the control center display several different camera angles, a bird’s-eye view of the entire simulated area, various data, statistics and the perspective from each pilot’s mech along with their vitals.

 

“ _Combat simulation commencing in 3… 2… 1…_ ”

 

The first ten minutes consist of shooting moving targets across the large simulated area. The pilots carefully follow each command they receive through the coms, keeping them in the loop as they dispatch and move in perfectly synchronized formations of two – ALPHA and BETA – they complete the first objective with ease.

After that first round of warm-up, the scenery changes to a deserted landscape. A team of rogue Bastions gets unleashed into the scene and they come crashing at full force. It’s been a decent while since Angela had witnessed their sheer destructive force in action.

 

“ _PROJECT_C9H13NO3 Initiated. 20%...40%...60%...80%…100%._ ”

 

The serum kicks in. The thrilling flare of the adrenaline burns brightly in their eyes, the curl of a snarl on their lips. And the effect is immediate. All their senses and reflexes are heightened to the limit. They are fearless as they engage their opponents and operate at their maximum capabilities. It ends within minutes. Angela checks the timer. It seems to have lasted somewhere between 10 to 12 minutes or so.

The CEO’s eyes are fixed on the displays too; his expression unreadable under the dim light.

“Let’s bring in two of those Svyatogor units the Russians are so proud of,” he orders.

“Sir, that is not part of—”

He holds up a hand and the woman’s sentence fizzles in her throat. “I am aware,” he says, with unapologetic bluntness. “However, an element of surprise is required every now and then, wouldn’t you say?” He loosens his tie and brings a finger to tug at the collar of his shirt. Angela catches a glimpse of a scar on the base of his neck, for the first time. “After all, nothing goes as planned out on the real battlefield. We have to take into account every possibility and alternative if we want to gain the upper hand where and when it counts.”

“Understood,” the woman concedes with a polite bow. If she’s surprised by his suggestion, she doesn’t show it.

 

The two Svyatogor units come crashing into the simulated area without so much of a warning, bringing about a misty change in the scenery, and it’s clear that it’s not something the pilots have been expecting. The effects of the serum are starting to wear off and their Fusion Cannons alone seem to be hardly inflicting any damage on the Russian units. 

The pilots break formation, circling around in a rush of uncertainty – in need of a new plan. But the Svyatogors don’t wait around. One of them darts forward and makes for the first mech spotted in its eyesight, taking the pilot by surprise. It smashes the cockpit with a single powerful blow and the mech gets pinned to the ground, the metal starting to bend a little under the pressure. The pilot’s eyes are blown wide in terror.

He starts sweating and shaking, pale and despondent, clenching and unclenching his fists in little spasms.

“ _It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real—_ ”

 

“MEKA-3, do you copy?” The CEO’s voice crackles over the speakers, abrupt and surprisingly tense. “Can he hear us?” He asks, with a faintly concerned look on his face, and the technician to his left nods concisely.

“Yes, sir. His communication system is fully operational.”

“What is happening to him?” He rushes to a woman’s station, turning his attention to her screen as it runs diagnostics, watching the synch ratio fluctuate wildly on her screen. “He seems to have gone catatonic, sir.”

“Is he having a stroke?”

“No,” Angela intervenes, closely observing the symptoms. “He’s having a panic attack.”

 

“ _I got him!_ ” 

Angela can feel her pulse skip when Hana’s voice comes through the intercom. She’s shouting something in Korean and it crackles with static, full of white noise, but the voice is unmistakably Hana’s.

Angela can’t reign in her anxiety, can’t stop her erratic foot-tapping, her shaking hands, her nervous breathing, as she watches Hana activate her boosters and make for a straight thrust in one of the Svyatogor’s legs to dislodge its balance. It’s enough for it to loosen its grip on the mech for a couple of seconds and enough for Hana to spare a glance to the pilot who is currently undergoing the panic attack.

She urges him to breathe, count to ten and concentrate only on breathing – _stay in the present_ , she tells him.

He blinks rapidly and inhales sharply, then exhales slowly.

“His vitals are stabilizing.”

 

Hana keeps a sharp lookout and when the Svyatogor rears back for a second strike, she dodges once, then again. It’s almost as though she’s anticipating all of her opponent’s moves.

“ _MEKA 2-4-5. Distract and engage!_ ” Hana shouts over the coms for the other pilots to hear. “ _Go for the legs!_ ”

She circles around it to catch it off guard. Boosters on, she slams into the back of its legs and the Svyatogor’s front collides violently with the ground.

“Atta girl,” the CEO chimes in, the smallest hint of pride in his voice, “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

 

And they do.

 

Angela can only stare in awe because it’s beautiful and impressive, truly, the way Hana carries herself even amid a turmoil.

 

Angela reaches for her empty coffee cup and brings it absently against her lips. She smiles fondly around the lid.

She is just so, _so_ proud of Hana.

 

“All opponents successfully incapacitated. Time to disengage,” one of the men in the control room announces.

Angela releases a shuddering sigh of relief that she wasn’t even aware she was holding in.

She realizes now that she’s been waiting with bated breath during the entire simulation.

There’s a tense moment of silence as they all wait for the CEO’s cue.

An electronic tablet gets passed to him and it’s quite unsettling, the way his eyes shine like he’s just been handed some brand new toys he can’t wait to tinker with some more. He skims over all the numbers and readings before nodding. “Excellent,” he says; a hint of a smirk in his tone. “Well done, everyone! I am very proud to announce that the results are 100% positive.”

He turns on the speakers, his voice resonating throughout the simulation room with impeccable clarity as he goes on to communicate the results to the pilots as well, congratulating their efforts. Then he sets his hands on his hips and turns his attention back to the people in the room. “Celebrations are in order, aren’t they?”

His words are received with a round of applause and some laughter that manages to pacify the atmosphere in the room.

Angela claps along, absentmindedly.

She doesn’t have a specific reason for not fully trusting this man, or his decisions, but she certainly doesn’t appreciate his hasty methods. The initial deal was to use the serum in its full capacity on a couple of willing volunteers only, but his final decision was for all the pilots to do it. And while the results did turn out positive, in the end, it had been a dangerous gambit from the start – especially with him playing the ‘element of surprise’ card out of the blue.

 _He has good intentions,_ Hana had told her once.

Angela doesn’t doubt that. But every good intention may come with a tragic cost, which is precisely why there must always be a balance in place.

Perhaps, she is somewhat unfairly subjective on this particular matter… but it involves Hana’s well-being, and she can’t help it. She knows perfectly well that Hana can take care of herself, that she’s been getting along just fine even before Angela came around, but she can’t stand the thought of Hana being harmed in any way. One day, it might happen… One day, when Angela won’t even be around to see.

 

The pilots get dismissed and Angela watches as Hana goes out the door.

For one brief, very strange, almost surreal moment, Angela feels as though she’s gazing at a distant star. And it comes with a sick sense of dread, of inevitability that settles in the pit of her stomach, and her heart clenches painfully in her chest as she recalls Hana’s words… 

 

 _After you leave, time apart is all we’ll have_.

 

The words echo in Angela’s mind, like the departing whistle of a train fading into the night.

 

She feels as though she’s been reading her favorite book and she’s close to the end so she wants to read it slowly now because she does not want it to finish... but everything ends, one way or another.

Everything ends, except this time it’s by choice. Her choice.

And Angela's heart pounds violently in her ribcage as she swallows. Regret settles in and it weighs heavily on her…

It's as they say, there’s always a certain sense of catharsis in the end...

The truth _tick tocks_ away in her heart and it pulses starved in her whole being — up her spine and through her chest.

There is so much she’d like to say to Hana, so much… Angela could’ve never predicted it. Hana slipped into her life with surprising ease, with sweet bubblegum smiles and playful taunts and a casual adoration in every touch, until she had such an unflinching grip on Angela’s heart that Angela’s can’t go a day without the girl’s presence on her mind.

She should seek closure, Angela knows, but it’s not what she _wants_. She doesn’t want to leave things like this, she doesn’t want to let go.

 

“Are you alright, Miss Ziegler? You look very pale.” The woman next to her is staring at her with a mildly concerned and confused look on her face and Angela blinks once, twice, trying to anchor herself back to the present. It’s then that she notices the tears that had been building up in her eyes.

Angela dabs at the corner of her eyes with the sleeve of her lab coat. “Yes, I—I just need some air.” Her throat heavy and thick with tears. She is at a loss, her resolve dissolving with each passing second. She genuinely believed she had the moral high ground but all she did… all she did was dwell only on the negative side of things, and it seems to make all the difference in the world.

She should know better than to take happiness for granted. And so she takes a deep breath and stands up with renewed purpose.

In the end, matters of the heart listen to no reason.

 

Angela bows respectfully and excuses herself out of the room. She doesn’t ask for permission but she sees the CEO tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment, meeting Angela’s eyes wordlessly; as though he instantly knew what Angela meant, what her intent was from the second she got up from her seat and hurriedly reached for the exit doors. And if her eyes look a little watery around the edges, he’s kind enough not to mention it.

She pushes through the doors and out into the wide, airy corridors. She finds Hana two corners away, by the same vending machine they stood earlier in the day. And Angela jogs to catch up to her, elbowing her way, as politely as possible, through the crowd of energetic pilots bustling about.

Hana turns to her and it’s just the two of them again. The girl blinks slowly as though she’s trying to bring Angela into focus. “Are you gonna play doctor on me again?” There’s a little furrow in her brow and she’s fussing with the headset that rests around the base of her neck. “Because, I’m okay, see?” She starts flexing her fingers as if that is enough to prove her point. 

Angela shakes her head, her hands fidgeting anxiously around the pockets of her lab coat.

There’s a beat of silence as they hover uncertainly by the vending machine.

“Hana, I wanted to apologize…” Angela finally says but trails off. Because Hana is now gazing at her with that _look_ on her face, as though Angela might blink out of existence if she were to look away now; like Angela is not standing in front of her, like she is already thousands of miles away.

Hana is just standing there, with Angela’s name sitting in her mouth, silent, as her eyes search Angela’s, combing over every inch of her face, looking for the things Angela knows Hana keeps expecting out of her now. Doubt. Distance. Finality.

 

But Angela only smiles, faintly, and steps closer.

She is too tired. She is tired of fighting that aching rawness, that tug in her chest, that little squeeze of her heart when Hana’s too far away – Angela knows Hana must feel it, too. She knows that it exists too readily inside of them both.

It’s impossible to contain it any longer.

“I thought I knew what I was doing,” Angela begins, tentatively; her voice wavering. “I thought I was the one with the moral high ground so I stubbornly clung to a decision I didn’t even truly believe in. I thought I was doing the right thing… but for whom was I doing it? It certainly didn’t feel right for me. It didn’t make me happy, nor did it bring me closure. All it did… was bring me misery. And it feels like I’m turning my back on what brings me the utmost joy and I know that if I do… If I turn my back on this, on _you_ , I’ll be regretting it for the rest of my life.”

Hana’s eyes glint as comprehension washes over her. It’s so comical – the widening of her eyes and the quivering lip – that Angela can’t help but chuckle a little, in delight. Hana tilts her head to the side and Angela can make the beginning of a smile as she looks at Angela for a confirmation, as if asking ‘ _Does this mean what I think it means?’_ She doesn’t seem to mind the prying eyes in the hall, the curious glances of the people passing by, every once in a while. They do make Angela nervous, though, and Hana notices her discomfort. She gives Angela a smile and a look of devotion that make Angela swell with affection and she forgets any notion of talking. She feels a little unworthy of it all after acting like such a stubborn fool.

Hana bends a little to blow a few hot tufts of air onto the glass of the vending machine.

Then she presses a fingertip against the misty widow, sliding it around so that it leaves a cleanly shaped trail behind.

A heart.

Their eyes meet in the reflection when Hana taps her finger on it twice before resting her palm on it and brings her gaze back to Angela. _Is this it?_  She seems to be asking, but it lays unspoken in the pause that follows. She is looking at Angela with bared brown eyes dancing with a brightness that lights up her whole face, and she smiles with that irresistible smile of hers; not the one that she wears for her fans but the one that’s meant for Angela, and Angela only.

And Angela melts.

Whatever defenses she thought she still had are annihilated. She simply can’t find it in herself to stomach the distance any longer.

One way or another, she comes full circle. Back to her very first instinct; to the candid whispers of her heart – to that one, simple, inevitable _truth_ that’s been pulsing vibrantly and constantly at her core. The world tunes out and everything else may split apart, but that’s the one truth that remains. _She loves Hana_.

Beyond measure or reason. Beyond expectations or resolutions. Wrong or right, it matters no more.

Angela shuffles closer and gently presses her palm atop of Hana’s, on that foggy heart on the glass.

And she smiles as she strokes her thumb over the back of Hana’s hand, and tells her, “Yes. This is it.”


	8. End of the Line

**SATURDAY – November 19 th**

**8:20 PM**

 

The champagne cork pops with a nudge of the CEO’s thumb and the bottle exhales a thin, white stream of smoke followed by a resonant round of applause from throughout the bar lounge. He pours the champagne into flutes with finesse, the liquid fizzing and foaming as he does, then he taps his index finger against his glass to signal the start of his speech. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? Thank you.”

“It is my greatest pleasure to announce that the project is a complete success!” He raises his glass in the air and the gesture is met with yet another thunder of frantic applause. “My upmost gratitude goes to each and every one of your contributions,” he says. “And, of course, to Doctor Ziegler, without whom none of this would have been possible.” He looks at Angela then, holding his glass up as he tells her, “We are incredibly grateful to you and I can assure you that Overwatch has found a lasting ally in the Mobile Exo-Force of the Korean Army.”

Everyone around him is nodding, clinking their glasses in her honor. “ _To Doctor Ziegler!_ ”

 

The toast is followed by an echo of _cheers_ and Hana watches as Angela bows modestly, uttering a ‘ _thank you_ ’ before bringing the glass to her lips. She sips slowly, delicately, careful not to spill. Her sleek, blonde hair is down in elegant curls and she’s wearing this creamy white dress that holds tight against every hint of a curve in a way that makes Hana’s eyes trace every line of her body, because _holy hell..._  

Angela looks gorgeous.

The image of her is enough to render Hana motionless, making it kind of hard for her to concentrate on anything other than shameless staring.

Hana swallows against her dry throat and takes a tentative sip of her champagne. The fruity fragrance makes her nostrils twitch and she squints at the taste. Definitely not fruity. She sets the glass aside on the tray of a passing server and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

_That probably wasn’t very lady-like of her, but whatever._

The band is getting ready to play live music and couples are already pairing off and stepping onto the large wooden surface of the dance floor, which makes Hana bring her line of sight back to where Angela is. And if it’s by pure coincidence or it's because the doctor somehow sensed her gaze, Hana can’t say for certain, but when Angela turns her head to look her way and their eyes meet, a shiver courses down Hana’s spine.

She can actually _feel_ the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck bristle. And on second thought, maybe she should have let her hair down, too, instead of opting for a messy up-do, but then again, it’s not like it would have made that big of a difference. Because Hana knows it has little to do with the night air and more with the way Angela is looking at her right now, from across the room.

It’s all in the way she stands there, under the cozy glow of all the fairy lights strung around the rooftop lounge. They make the entire place and the general atmosphere of the party seem especially inviting – almost deceptively warm in spite of the intrusive chilly breezes. And it’s definitely in the way Angela drags a finger around the rim of her glass, with a genuine smile on her face and a glimmer of expectancy in her eyes.

Hana feels the blood rush to her cheeks and she fixes her side-swept bangs timidly.

She draws in a shaky, decisive breath. She’s more than ready to go over there. She's tired of waiting around.

 

But then, of course, _someone_ decides to effectively kill her moment. Hana huffs out an annoyed sigh when Kim Soo-Hyun — a teammate of hers — pats her gingerly on the shoulder. She whips her head in his direction with a frown and he shrinks back guiltily. He smiles at her then, in the same way he always does; like he’s dying for Hana to give him the time of day. She quirks a disinterested brow, instead.  _What now_.

He fidgets with his tie, running his hands down to the end and giving it a slight tug, before he works up the nerve to say whatever it is he came to say to her. “Hey, um, thanks for… the other day,” he mumbles.

Hana waves his comment off with a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “We’re a team. We’re supposed to have each other’s back.” Which is nothing but the simple truth. Hana would’ve have done it for any other of her teammates. She would’ve done it for anyone in need, really. Because she knows what it’s like.

She happens to know first-hand what it’s like to suddenly lose your grip on reality when under extreme pressure; to feel like you’re helplessly caught alone in the eye of a storm while everything around you splits apart and crumbles to pieces – even if only in your mind. It’s awful to be under the impression that there’s no escape as you await the impending doom with painful terror sizzling in your blood.

Hana _knows_ and she doesn’t wish it upon anyone. After all, there’s a certain blissfulness to death being a concept, an idea. A thing that happens to other people – sicker people, older people, less fortunate people; not you.

He nods, “I’m still trying to get used to it all, you know? Sometimes it feels a little too… overwhelming.”

“I know,” Hana tells him, curtly, and he winces a little at her tone. She assumes he must have misheard some hint of superiority somewhere in her voice, even though there was no such thing. She’s simply telling it how it is, because she does understand what he’s talking about. And frankly speaking, she doesn’t feel like going any deeper into that conversation, not when she has other things –  _someone else_ – on her mind.

He holds her attention by clearing his throat awkwardly. “You look great, by the way,” he says, giving her a not so subtle once-over.

“Thanks,” Hana replies, absently following his gaze down to her own dress.

She smoothens up the puffy layers of frills, around the waist and down to her knees. She’s never been one for fancy wear – simply because there are much comfortable alternatives out there – but it’s not like she dislikes it or anything. Besides, she’s grown used to it. It’s required of her to wear formal attire every now and then, and she abides. However, she genuinely likes this dress. And if someone were to ask her, she’ll probably say it’s because it’s pretty and it does look great on her, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth. It goes a little beyond that, in the reason _why_ she picked it in the first place. It’s because the color reminded her of a certain pair of blue eyes – like a mirror to the sky.

 

_Speaking of…_

 

Hana looks up and out of the corner of her eye, she notices that Angela is back to indulging the people around her in moments of chatter.

 _Great,_ she bites back a groan. They’ve both been doing plenty of this all evening long but Hana is _so_ tired already of mingling with the guests and making idle conversation. She’s had enough of pleasantries and keeping up appearances. She’s not even in the mood for a party to begin with because as far as she’s concerned, there isn’t anything worth celebrating. Well, sure, the completion of this project is supposedly a big deal for MEKA and a big deal for the pilots likewise, she gets that. But for her, it takes on a different meaning.

Hana doesn’t feel like celebrating the doctor’s approaching departure.

 

Kim Soo-Hyun offers a hand for her to take — an open dance invitation, it seems. He lets his hand hover as he waits for Hana’s response and she takes a moment to consider it before she gives in with a noncommittal shrug. She could use a moment’s distraction.

She allows him to lead her to the dance floor where people are already moving to the slow tempo of the music. He rests his hands on her hips for less than five seconds before he takes them back, visibly flinching, his eyes widening, like someone is about to murder him on the spot.

Hana stares at him, confused, but her question melts on her tongue when she hears a throat clearing behind her and she feels the familiar press of a palm, ghosting in-between her shoulder blades; warm against her bare back. And somehow, Hana knows exactly to whom the hand belongs to – long before she even turns her head around and hears _her_ voice.

The one person who can send Hana’s heart into a frenzy with just one simple look.

 

“May I cut in?” Angela asks, as politely as ever. She’s eyeing the slightly taller frame of the boy beside Hana and he nods, with the tiniest hint of reluctance. He steps back with a curt bow of his head and it’s obvious he’s doing it out of courtesy. It must have been kind of a low-blow to his pride and Hana’s lips twitch as she resists the urge to smirk at his loss. There’s something so oddly satisfying about watching him slope away.

Angela doesn’t waste another second and she takes his place before Hana. She lets her eyes wander appreciatively over Hana’s dress in a way that makes every skin cell of her body feel exposed and Hana fumbles a little under the close attention. She suddenly feels the need to fixate her attention on _very interesting_ imaginary spots on the floor – just for a couple of seconds so she can cool down and gain back her confidence.

It occurs to her then that they are the only ones standing still amid a fluid crowd and they must definitely look a little odd so she places her hands on Angela’s hips in what she assumes is a decent start for a dancing position. She tries to hold her body back, though, in a way that ensures they don’t touch any more than they have to – close enough to touch, but leaving the barest of inches between their bodies – because, well, the lines between them are still kind of blurry and confusing right now and Hana doesn’t want to push her luck.

The thing is, they haven’t exactly got a chance to talk about _it_ yet. With all the rush of preparations for the party and with everything that’s been going on around them – they’ve both been too busy. Of course Hana has been itching to pull Angela aside and just ask her, _what happens now_? Even though part of her still fears that questioning this might create another rift, she still wants to know where they stand and what comes next.

And so she opens her mouth to say something but the doctor beats her to it.

“Hana, you look… beautiful,” Angela tells her, and she says it so simply, so _earnestly,_ like it’s been on the tip of her tongue for the longest time and she only waited for Hana to appear so that she could say it.

Hana can’t help it either. She lets her own eyes skim over Angela’s dress _again_ because well, it’s one thing to observe from a distance – to catch a few glimpses of it throughout the evening – and an entirely different thing to finally be able to see it all up close and personal and have all those slinking curves of temptation almost pressed into you. Hana can’t help but drink in every detail like her life is depending on it.

And when she brings her eyes back up to meet Angela’s gaze, it’s honestly the biggest and oldest cliché in the book but somehow Hana still manages to be struck dumb by this one simple, obvious, undeniable fact: Angela Ziegler is _beautiful_.

Hana takes a shuddering breath, licking her lips nervously before she utters, “You too. You look, um… _wow_ …”

She curses herself as soon as the words leave her mouth because _wow_? _Seriously?! What was that! It was so lame!_ She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head in quiet disbelief, wondering if the floor will maybe open up beneath her through sheer force of will and swallow her whole. But then Angela’s fingers squeeze gently around her shoulders, and Hana slowly opens her eyes and brings them up to meet the doctor’s smile.

“Is that so,” Angela says, her voice tinged with amusement. “Thank you.” Her blue eyes sparkle with the dazzling reflection of all the lights around them and there’s that flicker of familiar warmth in them, too, which Hana missed like crazy. She finds she can never get enough of it.

There’s always something infinite about Angela’s eyes, Hana thinks. They always hold her spellbound.

 

It's only when Angela inches a tad closer, that Hana is startled out of her trance.

“ _Aish!_ Sorry!” she hisses, after almost stepping on the doctor’s foot. “I suck at this so bad, it’s embarrassing.”

Angela chuckles softly as she lifts one of Hana’s hands from her hip to her shoulder then claps the other one into her own, keeping them at near shoulder-height. “Well, as someone once told me…” Angela says, hand gently caressing the small of Hana’s back before pulling her just that much closer. “Don’t worry too much about it.” She leans in to be heard over the music and she whispers in Hana’s ear, “Just follow my lead.”

Hana gulps and gives a quick nod of approval.

 

The band in the background is rewarded with a round of applause before they start playing the next song, and Hana recognizes it after the first couple of notes. She’s never heard it being played in acoustic before, but it would be hard not to recognize it, still. 2NE1 are classic, after all.

Hana watches Angela intently from beneath her eyelashes, the way she closes her eyes for a moment, chin tipped slightly upward, like she’s trying to immerse herself in the music; to get a feel for it. And when Angela opens her eyes, Hana nods again, a sheepish smile stretching across her lips. _This is nothing like Dance Dance Revolution,_ she thinks. There’s no colorful pattern of steps to follow. This requires a touch of imagination and pure instinct, but Hana is confident enough in her own reflexes. She’s quick on her feet and a fast learner. _She can do this._

 

_~[When you feel like there’s no way out, love is the only way](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjrlWhfoIjY) ~_

 

They start with a slow sway, and Hana shuffles with uncertainty as she concentrates a little too much on not stepping on Angela’s feet. The doctor, on the other hand, seems to have an innate elegance in every step. Her feet move with ease, her heels almost gliding against the rich wood of the floor as she guides Hana around. She keeps her eyes locked on Hana's, her gaze soft, her touch so gentle and comforting that it helps calm down the tripping jitter in Hana’s muscles.

 

The beat picks up and Angela turns her with the music, once, twice, in consecutive swirls. Hana’s dress twirls in the air with every spin, and she giggles when Angela swings her back in, gently pulling her closer by the waist. They begin to circle around, and Hana stumbles forward a little. Angela’s nose bumps against her forehead when she turns her head and Hana huffs around a giggle, trying to blow the stray strand of hair out of her eyes. Angela brings her fingers up to caress Hana’s brow before she tucks the wild strand of hair behind her ear with a smile.

They find themselves in a playful fit of giggles as they carry on, smiling at one another.

Each misstep only makes them brush closer together and Hana bumps her head against Angela's shoulder, finally feeling the tension leave her muscles as they keep an easy beat around the floor; which is good, because Hana finds it a little hard to focus on even a single note, when she would rather replay the soft euphony of Angela’s breathy chuckles in her mind – over and over again.

 

Angela begins to draw them around to a quicker pace once the violins before the refrain cue in, and soon enough Hana learns to follow as though every move of hers is suddenly tethered to Angela’s. Their feet move in unison, in long paces across the floor. It’s a back and forth of connection and rhythm; it’s in their breathing, their steps, their posture – it’s intense and fluid. It's their unlikely romance balanced on the needle’s tip as they start to spin across the dance floor in great sweeping turns, around and around.

They orbit each other like they can’t fight the force of the gravity that pulls them together.

The sound of the music is joined by their laughter like bells chiming in the wind as the night air whips around them. And it’s almost as though all the lights are suddenly prettier than ever, extra bright, with a pale ghost of a halo around them and it’s just the two of them in the whole, wide world. Hana can’t stop smiling. “Is this what it feels like?” she asks. “Flying, I mean.”

Angela answers her with a delighted chuckle. “Now that you mention it,” she says. “I suppose there is a somewhat similar sense of freedom in both flying and dancing.” She tugs Hana closer, arm tight against the small of her back as she slows down their rhythm. “One day, perhaps, I’ll take you for a flight. If you’d like?”

 _One day._ Hana wants to think of it as a promise. “One day, definitely!”

 

Angela gives her one more spin before she yanks her back, pressing their bodies flush together. She lets her hand slide around, from Hana’s hipbone to the small of her back and then up her spine, fingers brushing a burning path until her palm settles in the space between Hana’s bare shoulder blades. Angela dips her, slowly, the inside of her thigh brushing Hana’s as she gently lowers her backward and then up again, once more pressed together in a soft embrace, in a moment so intensely intimate that Hana can actually _feel_ that shiver that runs through her body.

It’s electric – it works its way through her like a circuit, buzzing through her limbs, all the way to her fingertips.

It’s like she’s suddenly got live-wires under skin, sizzling with electricity. She breathes in, taking in the familiar scent of Angela’s perfume and she finds it hard to focus on anything but the proximity of their bodies. From the warmth of Angela’s skin seeping through her dress, to the way she breathes hotly, slowly, with cheeks flushed with exertion and how the corners of her eyes crinkle when she smiles…

It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic; undeniably sensual, somehow.

Hana can feel herself completely slipping away as the song comes to an end and their dance burns out to a slow swaying.

She brings her hands up, loosely looping them around Angela’s neck, threading them in her hair as she leans forward to bury her blushing face in the crook of Angela’s shoulder. She closes her eyes and lets her lips just barely dust over Angela’s skin, around a muffled, tired sigh.

Angela’s cheek comes to nuzzle against Hana’s temple and soft words tickle at the shell of her ear.

“We should talk,” she murmurs discreetly into Hana's hair.

Hana pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of Angela’s face, and how she stares down at Hana earnestly, like she’s trying to tell her something more with her eyes alone. Hana drags her hands down Angela’s arms, giving them a gentle squeeze before she nods minutely and leans in a bit closer to speak over the hum of the crowd. “Follow me,” she whispers, with a tilt of her head in the direction of the exit.

 

 

She leads Angela away from the bustle of people and they slowly come to a halt when they find a quieter spot, some place on a nearby terrace just outside the rooftop bar. Angela falls back then, two or three steps behind, leaving enough space between them that it could be considered a respectable distance. Hana turns around and catches the doctor’s gaze right before she glances down and away.

Angela peers absently into the distance before she turns her full attention back to Hana, with a touch of uneasiness in her eyes.

A cool breeze blows past them, brisk against their skin, softly rustling the hems of their dresses, and Hana feels that ripple of night air against every inch of bare skin; goose bumps rising against her flesh. She swallows around the thick lump in her throat, trying hard to ignore the dreadful feeling that settles in the pit of her stomach. Because she already knows exactly what the doctor is going to say…

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Angela tells her, after a solid minute of silence.

Her words are quiet, but Hana feels them like thunder in her bones—echoing, echoing, and rattling her insides.

Hana breathes in deep, her chest rising and falling, slowly, as she takes in the light chill of the air.  _It’s really happening, after all…_

Her hand reaches out to touch the metal railing just above the glass panel, her fingers curling around it. She waits a beat before she finally utters, “Yeah, I know.” Of course. She expected it. She knew. _How could she not?_ This whole party is a pesky reminder of that. She could’ve managed just fine without another depressing reality check. Still, having it being acknowledged out loud, like this, between the two of them…

It comes with a certain sense of finality that seems to linger in the air around them, heavy and encompassing.

There’s scattered laughter coming from the party they left behind and the far-off sounds of the city seem to be painfully clear as a contemplative silence falls between them. Hana perches onto the railing, staring ahead at the city skyline.

Angela settles beside her gingerly and Hana shifts a little until their arms touch, just barely, but enough for her to feel absolute warmth on her skin. She glances up, where tiny stars begin to twinkle on, across the dark depths of the night sky, then down at her hands and the scenery filtering through the spaces in between her fingers. The streets are aglow with a brilliant splash of neon colors and from all the way up on that high rooftop, the people hardly look like ants. It kind of feels like they are sitting quietly on the edge of the world, just the two of them.

 _So, this is it,_ Hana thinks. Their point of departure. The end of the line.

 

Her mind drifts back to that first night on the balcony. Back when it all started. Back to the beginning.

It’s almost as though she can hear the incessant ticking of clock in her mind, like time has now been reduced to a few granules of sand in an hour glass that separates them from the heartbreak of a fast approaching farewell.

But Hana wants to flip it over and start anew. She doesn’t want a ‘ _the end_ ’, she wants a ‘ _to be continued_ ’.

Some naïve part of her held onto a thread of hope that things might stay the way they are, one way or another, without any need for drastic changes but they have already reached the decisive turning point. It’s now or never and _never_ seems impossible to Hana right now. After all, she isn’t known for throwing in the towel when things take a difficult turn, no. She heaves out a tense breath and turns her head to face Angela.

“Listen, doctor—”

“Hana, I—”

They both stop mid-sentence as their words tumble over each other.

It draws a quiet chuckle from Angela and Hana can’t help but laugh too. They both fall into it for a moment; it’s soft, synchronized, sapping some of the tension out of the air. And it ends in a gentle sigh from Angela, whose fingers graze the smooth metal railing back and forth as she turns her gaze back on Hana. “You may go first,” she says, smiling in a way that makes Hana’s pulse quicken.

Clearing her throat, Hana scratches at the back of her ear before she starts talking. “Right, so, I’ve been thinking…”

She stops to take a deep breath that shakes back through her lips in a quiet, nervous laugh as goes on, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, actually, and it’s kind of funny, because I never really thought about my future until now, to be honest. Before all this, I mean…” She clears her throat again and lets a delicate pause intervene so she can properly assemble her thoughts before she presses on, “It just seemed kind of pointless for me to be thinking that far-off into the unknown when just about anything could happen, you know? But then I met you.”

Angela swallows, visibly; her eyes completely focused on Hana as she speaks.

“And now… well, now I started thinking about it all. I thought about your offer, about me joining Overwatch, about what could happen in a year or two or ten…” Hana trails off as she reaches for Angela’s hand, loosening its grip from around the railing and getting Angela to relax as Hana runs the tip of her finger over the back of her hand, tracing imaginary patterns onto her skin, wonderingly, following the lengths of her fingers.

“I thought about us,” Hana says as she rests her hand on top of Angela’s; assertive and sure. “I thought about _you_.”

There’s a beat of silence until Angela lets a nervous and incredulous chuckle slip. “I suppose you must have figured it out by now that I can be quite a mess of a person,” she says, and Hana loves it when she does that; whenever Angela would try to stifle a chuckle by covering her mouth, and then that delightful laughter of hers slips through in spite of it. She wonders if the doctor knows how charming it can be.

She gives Angela’s hip an affectionate nudge, biting her lip around a smile, she says, “I think you’re perfect.”

Angela’s fingers twitch under Hana’s palm as she tilts her head ever so slightly, averting her eyes, and Hana tracks the way her blush crawls up her neck, lighting the tip of her ears peeking from beneath her hair. “I really am not,” Angela insists.

Hana’s mouth curves into a smile, amusement tickling at the base of her throat. She can’t help the laugh that works its way up through her throat. “No, you’re not, not really,” she snorts; a fleeting sort of thing, definitely not meant to insult. She just couldn’t resist a small, gentle jibe.

She sees the momentary look of surprise flitting across Angela’s features then – she clearly didn’t expect a blatant admission in return – and Hana feels that fond smile tugging its way back onto her lips. “You still are, though,” she says, giving Angela’s hand a squeeze. “To me.”

Angela’s gaze softens and she dips her head, a smile tugging up the corners of her lips. She leans into Hana’s side as though she’s acknowledging the need for contact and Hana’s heart leaps up into her throat and settles there.  

She glances across at the city and she pictures families sitting together at the dining table, chatting away about their day, exchanging jokes.

She sees freshly constructed buildings and she’s reminded of when she watched as they were torn to pieces, not so long ago.

This is her home. A city she sworn to protect with her life on the line.

It’s not a choice that comes easy to her.

 

Hana feels a stabbing pain at the mere thought of leaving, of wanting to leave; guilt eating her up from within – a dark whisper in the back of her mind accusing her with spite and venom of wanting to weasel her way out, _because why should she get to “escape” while the rest of them stay behind?_ It’s absurd, Hana knows. Because she’s not running away. No one will accuse her, no one will blame her.

The weight of this duty, after all, is not on her shoulders alone.

That’s something she has to remind herself every once in a while, otherwise it gets unbearable and suffocating.

She lets a quiet sigh escape her lips as she tilts her head back and closes her eyes, shoving the inconvenient self-doubt deep down. She opens her eyes and casts a glance skyward. The world has always struck her as such a big place – impossibly large – and Hana wants to see _more_ , she wants to _try._ She’ll be here when it happens. She’ll be here when it counts. But for now, Hana tells herself that she’s allowed to make this choice.

She’s allowed to want this.

 

“I want to join Overwatch,” she finds herself saying, before she’d even fully conceived the thought.

Angela opens her mouth to say something but Hana cuts her off, gently, “Just hear me out on this, alright?”

She receives a nod in return and she takes it as her cue to continue. “I can’t leave right now but my contract with MEKA will get renewed once I turn twenty; that’s only months away,” she tells Angela, “They’ll file my transfer to Overwatch then, on a loan or something so I can still come back here whenever I’m needed and…” Hana draws in a shaky breath, lets it out even more shakily. She can feel the flurries of worry rushing through her, making her voice slightly frantic as she speaks so she shakes her head and collects her thoughts. “I’m trying to say that this doesn’t have to be the end for us. Not if we don’t want it to be. I mean, look, I know that I’m young – so much younger than you. I know that you can easily come up with many reasons why we shouldn’t be together or why it wouldn’t work but, listen. You don’t have to make me any lifelong promises, because yeah, maybe it’ll last, maybe it won’t; who’s to say for sure, right? But we’ll never know if we don’t give it a shot.”

She fixates Angela with an unwavering stare as she tries to convey the sincerity of her words.

“I want to be with you, Angela,” Hana tells her, slowly, solemnly.

It occurs to her that this might have been the very first time she’s called the doctor by her name, out loud. It feels heavy, significant… and she can see it in the way Angela parts her lips in surprise, her eyes shimmering with the realization. Hana can’t help but smile. She feels completely exposed talking like this, but there’s also a strange sense of relief at finally articulating all of it; in finally laying her feelings bare.

“I just can’t imagine my future without you in it anymore,” Hana says, voice going softer. “I want to be close to you, always.” She turns Angela’s palm over and lets her fingertips brush gently across her inner wrist, over her pulse point – Hana thinks she could probably feel the doctor’s erratic heartbeat if she were to _listen_ – before she drags her fingers up to curl them into Angela’s. Her own heart rate spikes along, it kicks into overdrive. Hana can feel it. She is getting downright giddy now in spite of all the crazy anxiousness that courses through her veins.

She untangles their hands just so she can step closer and around, fitting perfectly in-between Angela and the railing. She doesn’t care if her dress is getting smudged because the blue that matters is in the eyes gazing down at her. She lets the words sink in, watching as Angela quietly absorbs them; her heavy breathing filling the space between them in the seconds of slight hesitation before Hana finally tells her…

“In other words, I love you.” She says it swiftly and certain, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

The one constant in her world, with no more room for doubt.

It may not be a choice that comes easy to her, but Hana tells herself that it’s alright.

She tells herself it’s worth it. And when she looks into Angela’s eyes, she believes it.

Because Hana finds it hard to imagine a moment in time when she won’t be horribly, impossibly, in love with Angela.

She is certain, in fact, that if she were to meet Angela again in another twenty years, she would feel the exact same way as she does now. She can picture Angela with wrinkles and frail white hair, and Hana knows her heart would still flutter at the mere sight of her. She’d still feel the same mix of excitement and warm confusion in her presence. The same joy and certainty. The same familiarity and nervousness.

The very same love.

 

Come what may. Complications be damned. Hana couldn’t care less about the difference between what she knows and what she doesn’t know anymore. Not when she’s with Angela. Because when she’s with Angela, everything makes sense and nothing makes sense at the same time and that sole difference doesn’t even matter. It just feels right.

And she waits, her body coiled tight with anticipation, ready to burst, as Angela’s eyes roam over her face. The seconds stretch until it feels like time has stopped. Then Angela smiles, after what felt like both seconds and hours to Hana. She reaches out and trails the back of her knuckles against Hana’s cheek, and Hana’s hands settle on Angela’s hips by instinct, holding her in place, afraid she might pull away.

But Angela doesn’t move, doesn’t shift. Her hand slides down from Hana’s cheek to her neck; her fingers brush over Hana’s collarbone, over her shoulder. Angela's gaze is long, and thoughtful but gone is that faraway look in her eyes; the one that always made it seem like she is desperately trying to justify things to herself. The way she looks at Hana now... it’s with joy crinkling the edges of her eyes and a sort of promise that leaves Hana dazed. And so she can’t help the way her eyes flutter shut when she feels Angela’s fingertips dust over the skin of her neck, then the line of her jaw, as she brings both of her hands up to gently cradle Hana’s face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

Hana hears Angela whisper her name. Just one word. _Hana._ It’s just her name but it sounds like so much more. It’s in the way Angela says it; all soft, rounded vowels. Hana can taste a sweet kind of surrender. It makes her heart soar.

Then she feels warm lips gently pressed just above her left eyelid; barely there and soft as a feather. It tickles a little and Hana shudders as she opens her eyes. Angela nuzzles closer, pressing their foreheads together and Hana tilts her head back to accommodate their height difference.

Angela's hands are shaking on Hana’s cheeks as she eases in and kisses the corner of Hana’s smile, with ardor, and she lets it linger for a heartbeat or two before pulling away, as though she’s trying to put all the things she can’t bring herself to say out loud just yet.

A silent confession of sorts.

Angela chuckles, a little, with relief, like she can’t quite believe she is allowing this to happen.

Hana can feel her breath, still, hot and heavy across her lips. “You sprinted ahead,” Angela murmurs, into the minute space between their lips and Hana blinks up to her in mild confusion until it dawns on her. _Oh. Right._ She got so caught up with the need to say everything that she had to say – the need to _prove_ it – she was burning up from the impatience of it all to the point where she didn’t wait to hear what the doctor had to say to her in return. Hana can do little more than stare, her mouth moving wordlessly as she tries to organize her thoughts and speak.

But then Angela giggles, and it's with a great deal of affection that comes pouring into her words as she says, “I should catch up to you now.”

Hana grins, already meeting Angela halfway as she closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together for the first time.

It’s a soft kiss, it's easy and natural; chaste by all means– a tentative brushing of lips.

It tastes like _I love you, too._

It makes Hana swoon on her feet. It’s as if they are going adrift, in a place removed from reality; a space in-between, where only the two of them wander, with no rules, no boundaries, just an overwhelming sense of belonging, in their little world of two.

It's definitely a _to be continued_.

 

Angela exhales shakily when they pull apart, slowly, with half-lidded eyes, just far enough to still be breathing in each other’s space.

One of her hands drops onto Hana’s shoulder, palm rested near the curve of her neck, thumb stroking her pulse point.

“It won’t be easy,” Angela whispers. “I hope you do know that.”

Hana's lips twitch into a smirk as she throws her arms around Angela's neck and she pushes herself up on her tip toes to claim another kiss.

“Easy mode is for casuals, anyway.”


	9. Epilogue

**WATCHPOINT: Gibraltar**

 

It comes as no surprise that the first thing Hana wants to see is the sea.

 

And so she stands, on the wet edge of the world, with foam washing over her bare ankles as the waves crash against the shoreline. The calming sound of the sea wraps itself around their ears and Angela watches with boundless joy as Hana beholds the vast unknown with curious eyes and a smile wide enough to hurt her cheeks. "This is so cool!" she says, practically bursting with excitement. "You can actually see Africa from here!"

Angela smiles fondly as Hana tilts her head back and closes her eyes, arms stretched out. She breathes in the pleasantly warm beach air, the breeze ruffling her hair. She is beautiful, in such a vibrant way. It makes Angela think of summer night carnivals — of things like fireworks and colorful Ferris wheels under bright starry skies.

Hana turns to her then; lips quirked up in a lopsided smile as she says, "I think I'll definitely like it here."

"I haven't even shown you around the base yet," Angela chuckles, patting the sand beside her.

Hana skips her way back to Angela's side, a happy, eager bounce in each step. She sits down, unrolls her pants all the way down her legs and thrusts her feet back into her rubber slippers. Then her gaze turns to find Angela's. "Yeah, but I've seen enough already to know that I'll like it here," she says and her lips spread into a full smile that makes Angela's heart instantly melt on the spot.

Angela can't help but smile, too. In the months before Hana got here, life moved forward at an excruciatingly slow pace – more or less, that's how it felt. It's only now, with Hana here by her side, at last, that everything is finally starting to fall back into place. And they settle into the familiar rhythm of being together again with such ease that it seems almost like a dream – as though no time has passed at all.

Angela reaches out and brushes a few wild strands of hair back from Hana's face. She tucks them behind Hana's ear and strokes her cheek lovingly as her eyes trace the angles of Hana's face. From her lashes to her lips, from her brows to her chin, attentive and reverent, Angela has every feature, every expression memorized.

She lets her thumb brush over the corner of Hana's mouth as she leans in to give her a sweet peck on the lips.

When she pulls back, Hana's nose wrinkles a little. It's positively adorable, really, how she keeps her eyes closed and pouts her lips, like she's expecting more. Angela feels laughter bubbling up in her chest and an easy chuckle slips free as she eases in once more and presses the sound to Hana's lips. She lets it hum between them like the thrilling, nervous energy of a new beginning before she pulls back, slowly.

"We should probably get going, what do you say?" Angela murmurs, slipping her fingers into Hana's hair to scratch lightly at the nape of her neck.

"Hmm?" Hana mumbles lazily in response. She sounds dreamy and distant, and it's a real struggle for Angela to not just kiss her again, though it'll really have to wait. For now. Angela's smile lingers as she brings her palm to rest against the center of Hana's chest, beckoning her with a gentle tap and a nod to take a peek behind her.

Hana turns to look over her shoulder, following Angela's line of sight until she spots Lena in the distance, waving energetically with both of her arms up in the air, and a sigh escapes Hana's lips when she realizes what Angela's implying. "I guess we have to keep it on the down-low, huh?"

"For now," Angela tells her as she pushes up onto her feet and slaps the sand off her pants. "Do you want us to tell them?"

Hana shrugs as a warm breeze stirs the sand at their feet. She bends forward a little to pick up a seashell, blows on it and holds it in the palm of her hand, observing it with interest. She tilts her head to the side and seems to be considering the question for a moment. Then she closes her fingers around the shell and drags her eyes back up to Angela's face so that they're looking at one another when she says, "To be honest I kind of want to, but, I mean, it's your call. You know them better than I do."

Angela nods, pondering for a beat or two. "Well, they are bound to find out eventually, anyhow… but it's for the better if we get to choose when and how to tell them rather than having them accidentally find out, don't you think?"

Hana gives her a nod of approval accompanied by a smile and Angela relaxes altogether. She's thankful for the fact that Hana seems to have a firm understanding of the situation. She holds out a hand to help her up but instead, Hana takes it as a cue to give Angela the shell to hold onto. Angela chuckles and tucks it into her already full pocket. They might be able to make two bracelets of seashells with all the ones they've picked so far. They should, in fact. She's sure Hana would love to. "But, first things first…" Angela taps a finger to her chin, with a thoughtful hum and a teasing glint in her eyes. "Well, we have to see if you truly have what it takes to join Overwatch, after all, don't we?"

Hana springs to her feet, with wide eyes. She blurts out, "Wait, you guys have, like, try-outs and stuff?"

Angela tries to stifle a giggle. "Maybe," she taunts. "Why? Are you nervous?"

"As if!" Hana scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as though to protect her threatened ego. "Bring it on!" She grins, eyes afire with smug confidence, and Angela tries _hard_ to resist the urge to kiss her because Lena has almost caught up to them and Angela is the one who's _just_ said how this wouldn't be the wisest way to come clean about their relationship.

Truthfully, she is not even quite certain yet of how exactly they should go about it but they'll figure it out, surely. Together.

 

"Hey guys!" Lena beams as she waves them over. "Winston says he's got this thing he wants to show us! C'mon, hurry up!"

Lena looks as impatient as she sounds so they nod and decide to not keep her waiting any longer.

They follow her back to the base, falling just a few steps behind as Lena sprints slightly ahead. Hana bumps Angela's hip playfully and she smirks when she grabs Angela by the sleeve to pull her closer. "By the way, you owe me a flight, doctor," Hana whispers discreetly, close to Angela's ear. And when she pulls back, she gives Angela this adorably expectant look that's simply impossible to turn down.

Angela quirks an amused brow. Not that she intended on refusing, either way. She smiles as she glances up, blinking at the bright sunshine. She watches the clouds slowly drift by across the afternoon sky and says, "Of course."

After all, they have a brand new horizon of possibilities to explore.


End file.
